


Dadvocados

by amaronith



Series: Dadvocados [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (I mean yeah they totally die but it isn't a graphic death?), (and never will be ever), (sort of), (sort of?), Fake/Pretend Marriage, Iron Man 3 Compliant, Kid!Fic, M/M, Maybe it's more "Marriage of Convenience that turns into a romantic relationship" thing?, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Season 2 Compliant, Not sure how to phrase that, child illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith/pseuds/amaronith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family is a funny thing, sometimes. Alternatively: the one where Matt and Foggy get married, adopt a baby, and then start dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I started writing a bunch of fics where different older superheroes adopt tiny baby Peter Parker (I'm so sorry Aunt May and Uncle Ben ;_;) and this is the one that I have the most of to start with. It's not finished, but I felt bad for sending poor returnsandreturns into a baby driven meltdown and said I'd start posting what I have of this fic to help make up for it.
> 
> there is also a lot of handwavey fuckwittery about how adoption in the State of New York works just roll with it okay?
> 
> Also, bonus drabble to anyone who can come up with a better title for this than Dadvocados.
> 
> super amounts of thanks to fulldaysdrive, torrential, and SoloShikigami for being my cheerleaders and somewhat beta readers for this fic.

Matt has nightmares, sometimes. Well, just the one nightmare, really. Always the same series of sounds - a lone gunshot in the night, the clattering of his cane along with the thumping of sneakers on concrete, “Whoa, whoa, hang on there son. What’s the hurry?” “I-I think that’s my Dad.” “Jesus, Ray, the kid’s blind-” and then silence like a gaping maw, threatening to swallow Matt whole with the complete lack of a heartbeat Matt knew as sure as his own - a heartbeat he’ll never hear again, the absence of it just as loud and disorienting as the gunshot had been and Matt wakes up with the taste of salt in the air and it’s like a ton of bricks is on his chest, and he can’t breathe. Rib injury that never quite healed right from The Accident, he thinks. At least, that’s when it started giving him trouble anyway.  
  
(Later, Foggy would hold him close and careful while Matt struggled to breathe. “This is not your rib, buddy. This is a panic attack. You’re gonna be okay, I promise. Just breathe with me, Matty. I’m right here. In and out, nice and slow, that’s it, come on buddy, you’re okay-”  
  
Matt would tell Foggy he was full of shit, even as he fought to breathe. Panic attacks are for people with _trauma_.  
  
“What do you call losing your sight at age nine in a violent car accident and then losing your dad six months later, Matt?”  
  
Oh.  
  
_Oh._ )  
  
But the nightmare(s) trail off as he gets older, and if he only had them once and a while, well he certainly wasn’t going to _tell_ anyone about them (especially not after _Stick_. The man had a point about people and connections and weakness, after all, even if he is an asshole). But then he meets Foggy and it’s like Matt can feel sunshine on his skin again (and that is what standing next to Foggy is like: standing in a sunbeam on a spring day, warm and comforting and has Matt trailing after him like a cat staying in the spot of sunshine as it moves across the floor during the day, unwilling to let himself slip out of it for even a moment), and little by little Matt lets himself be friends with Foggy (ha, little by little. Within five minutes of meeting Foggy, Matt took a running leap and cannonballed into the deep-end of friendship with the guy, sink or swim exposure therapy of being best friends with your roommate that had them having in-jokes and memorized schedules within two weeks after years and years of never letting anyone close enough to have any of those things - connections made him weak, soft, the would only hold him back except that Matt couldn’t see any way that Foggy could not make him anything but _better_ ) and honestly, falling in love with Foggy was just sort of inevitable, even if Matt could never let himself have Foggy because friendship was one thing, but romance was something else entirely and Matt was _bad_ at romance and he couldn’t lose the sun again.  
  
So. Friends. Best friends.  
  
_Just_ friends.  
  
(And he has nightmares again, sometimes, and it all starts the same - the gunshot, the noises of his cane on the pavement, the cops, but then “I-I think that’s my friend.” And it’s _Foggy_ who is dead in the alley, _Foggy_ who has blood matting his hair, _Foggy_ who’s heartbeat Matt will never hear again and Matt wakes up and struggles not to cry, focusing on Foggy’s heartbeat and his steady breathing and he’s curled up on the floor next to Foggy’s bed just to better hear him, really, just to make sure.  
  
“Get up here, Murdock.”  
  
“Y-you’re awake?”  
  
“Not for long if you get up here and let yourself get spooned.”  
  
“Foggy, I’ll just-”  
  
“You really want to fight with me about this? You’re freaking out, and I’m not going back to sleep leaving you to sleep on the floor next to my bed like a dog. So get under my covers and let me snuggle you so you can calm down from whatever nightmare you just had, and I can get my beauty sleep.”  
  
And Matt climbed into bed with Foggy, let himself be cuddled, and listened as Foggy drifted off again, his face tucked into Matt’s shoulder, and breathed.)  
  
And then there was Landman and Zack, and then Nelson and Murdock, and then Karen, and Matt’s world was _great_. And then Foggy found out about his… night time hobby, and Matt’s whole world came crashing down - everything twisted and off-kilter in a mockery what it was supposed to be, Matt and Foggy (and now Karen) as a team, taking on the world with the Law and helping out the little guy.  
  
But then Foggy came back, and together with Karen (and Marci) they took down Fisk, a one-two punch of the Law and Reality working in perfect tandem as it should’ve been from the beginning. And now they were in recovery.  
  
Healing.  
  
Which brought Matt to his present state of working late in his office, with Foggy in his own office, and Karen had long since gone home for the night. If things were better between them, maybe he and Foggy would be working at the table they use for conferences, working off each other as perfectly and seamlessly as they did in college.  
  
Matt knew they could never go back to that - that they needed to move forward, their relationship adapting to the new world order of their lives as have no more major secrets between them (well, one more, because Foggy had no idea about Matt’s feelings and if there was a hope of Foggy returning them before, that hope was smashed to the ground like a delicate teacup when Foggy found Matt half dead on his floor in the mask). But like any wound, sometimes it hurt worse even as it healed.  
  
Matt jerked awake with a gasp, gun shots echoing in his ears and leaving him on edge.  
  
“Matt?” Foggy called from his office. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah… Yeah, Foggy, I’m okay. I think I just dozed off for a bit.”  
  
There was a squeak of an office chair, and Foggy’s footsteps coming toward Matt’s office. “…you can head on home, Matt. I can take care of this case myself.”  
  
“I-no, Foggy. We need the money from this case, don’t we?” It probably said something bad that Matt couldn’t even think of the details of the case he just spent the past who-knows-how-long asleep with his head on top of. Matt rubbed his fingers on pants, frowning.  
  
“Yeah, but there’s no point in you being here if you’re gonna just sleep on the case notes instead of reading them. You have ridiculously soft silk sheets at home for that. At least, I assume that when I send you home for the night you are going to sleep and not, I dunno, do slick ollies off rooftops into kick-flipping twists as you beat up a mugger.”  
  
“…aren’t those skateboarding things?”  
  
“I played a lot of Tony Hawk growing up, so sue me.” Matt chuckled weakly as Foggy watched him continue to rub his fingers against his pants. “…what’s up? You look on edge.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You’re rubbing your fingers on your pants. You do that when you’re stressed out and unhappy.”  
  
Matt stilled his fingers. No more lies. Right. “…something woke me up. I-I was dreaming about the night my father died, again, and… I can’t tell if the gun shot was in my dreams, or if I actually heard one and that’s what woke me.”  
  
Foggy was quiet for a long moment, watching Matt. “…let’s go for a walk.”  
  
Matt frowned. “A walk?”  
  
“Get out of the office and get some fresh air, get the blood pumping… and you can listen for anything… weird.”  
  
“And if we find something weird?”  
  
“We call nine-one-one. Unless you somehow brought that getup with you into the office?” Matt shook his head. “So they we let actual authorities handle this one, but patrolling the perimeter might help with that low-key anxiety you’ve got going on.” Foggy ran a hand through his hair.  
  
“…you make me sound like a dog, Fog.”  
  
Foggy’s grin was loud and clear in his voice. “The most adorable puppy ever, Matty.”  
  
Matt scowled. “A puppy? Really?” He could hear Foggy grinning wider. “I thought I was a handsome, wounded duck.”  
  
“Duck-puppy then,” Foggy said with a laugh. “C’mon, grab your cane.”  
  
Matt got up, hand slipping around Foggy’s arm as naturally as breathing and he grabbed his cane with the other. “…thank you, Foggy. I don’t think I say that enough.”  
  
Foggy patted his hand fondly as they walked. “You’re welcome, buddy. The whole DD thing-”  
  
“DD?”  
  
“Shut up, Matt. It’s… taking some getting used to, to be sure, but it’s good that you’re just trying to do the right thing. And there are many ways to do the right thing, you know?”  
  
Matt nodded, giving Foggy’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Foggy.”  
  
“…yeah.”  
  
Matt listened to the city, letting the sounds of traffic wash over him as Hell’s Kitchen settled into sleep.  
  
He smelled the blood first. A _lot_ of blood. “…Someone’s hurt. Badly.”  
  
Foggy went tense and still at Matt’s side. “Can you tell where?”  
  
“Definitely in this direction.”  
  
Foggy reached into his pocket to hold his phone. “Let’s go.”  
  
They hurried down the street as Matt listened, only half paying attention to Foggy’s warnings of curbs and when they could cross the street, trying to hear anything that could give him a tip as to what happened when he heard it - soft sniffles of someone trying to stay quiet while they cried, and a fast heartbeat of a child. A _terrified_ child.  
  
Matt walked faster, until the smell of blood was almost overwhelming. “Here. Turn here.”  
  
“…in the alley?” Foggy’s phone was out of his pocket and he held it up in front of them - most likely using his flashlight app as they walked down into the alley and then Foggy’s breath caught. “Oooh shit…”  
  
“Foggy?”  
  
“We’ve got two dead bodies. Shot.” Foggy’s voice was tight with panic.  
  
“What about the child? Do you see them?”  
  
"Jesus, there's a _kid_ here?" Foggy swallowed hard. “I’ll look. Can you tell where?”  
  
Matt tilted his head. “By the dumpster.”  
  
“…right,” Foggy took a deep breath and stepped forward and Matt followed, his head swimming.  
  
_Dad… Daddy…_  
  
“Hello? Is someone here?” Foggy called out cautiously, though he sounded distant and far away. “Kid?” A muffled sob, and Foggy gasped. “Oh kiddo, how’d you end up in there? Shh, shh, I’m here to help - you’re okay, buddy. I’m gonna get you out of there, okay? Matt - call nine-one-one?” A grunt as Foggy reached into the dumpster and pulled out a small child. “…Matt, buddy?”  
  
There was an awful wheezing sound, and Matt distantly realized it was him.  
  
_Dad! Daddy!  
  
_ “Oh sh-sugar honey iced tea. Matt, buddy?” He came over and drew Matt into a one-armed hug, the other still holding the sobbing child. “I’m right here, buddy, you’re okay.”  
  
“ _Dad…_ ”  
  
“I got you, Matty. But I need you to hold the kid while I call the cops, okay? Matt, I need you with me, buddy, I can’t do this alone.”  
  
Matt nodded, trying to slow his breathing to something more normal as he held out his arms for the child. He did his best to focus on cataloging the details he could get from the kid, anything to take his mind off the cloying scent of blood thick in the air. The child smelled like the dumpster they had been in, and like salt from their tears. Their heartbeat was fast and panicked as they sobbed harder and Matt tucked the child’s face against his shoulder, keeping the child turned away from the two bodies in the alley. “What’s your name? Can you talk?”  
  
A sniffle and a head shake against Matt’s throat.  
  
Matt stroked a hand over the child’s soft hair. “I’m going to take that as you _can_ talk, but just don’t want to.”  
  
A nod and another muffled sob.  
  
“I’ll protect you, kid,” Matt said softly. “No one is gonna hurt you while I’m around. Ever.”  
  
Matt focused on the little kid in his arms, half listening to Foggy's phone call to nine-one-one. "Yeah, um, Hi. I, uh, my partner and I were out for a walk and we found a couple of dead bodies and a sobbing toddler in a dumpster and my partner is having a traumatic flashback and a panic attack so if you could get here - yes I'll stay on the line so you can use the GPS from my phone. We haven't touched anything in the crime scene except getting the toddler out of the dumpster."  
  
The toddler sobbed into Matt's shoulder, still struggling to stay silent and Matt bounced the kid on his hip, focusing on easing the child's panic and tears instead of his own. "You're safe now, little one. We won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe now, I promise.”  
  
Foggy moved his cell away from his mouth and stroked a hand over the child's hair before wrapped his arm around Matt's waist. "You are being so brave, little one. You too, Matt - so so brave, you're doing so good, Matt."  
  
Matt swallowed hard. No he wasn't, if he was doing good, he'd be looking for clues to find whoever did this in his neighborhood, not fighting off the terror rising in his throat.  
  
_The mind controls the body, the body controls our enemies…  
  
_ But what happens when your mind _is_ your enemy? What happens when you are trapped in a memory of your father's cold body under your fingers, your father's blood tacky on his skin? What happens then, Stick?  
  
Stick wouldn't know the answer. Stick didn't have the answers to _anything_ in Matt's life. Stick was an asshole who left a little boy alone in an abandoned warehouse because he didn't want a son when Matt had wanted a father-figure again.  
  
“You have my location? Great, I’m gonna stay right here until the cops come. Thank you.” Foggy ended the call and hugged Matt tighter to his side as he moved them out of the alley and onto the main street. "Let's wait out over here - I'm calling Brett."  
  
Matt nodded, holding the child a little tighter to him. "Yeah… Good idea.”  
  
Foggy rubbed the child's back soothingly as he dialed. "Brett, buddy, pal, amigo - I need you.”  
  
"What the hell, Nelson?" Matt listened to Brett's voice on Foggy's cell.  
  
"I, uh. Well, the long and short of it is that Matt and I found a pair of dead bodies and a crying toddler in a dumpster. I already called nine-one-one, but I figured I'd call you, too."  
  
"Yeah, we just got orders to deploy to a call - that you?”  
  
"I fff-freaking hope so. It looks like a double homicide, and the only witness is a… hm, I am gonna peg this kid as being around three? Kid hasn't stopped silently crying their little heart out and hasn't said a word to either Matt or myself since I fished them out of the dumpster. Oh, and Matt is not dealing with this well, and this is the closest I've been to a corpse since Mrs. Cardenas in the morgue, and it's really really awful."  
  
"Did you touch anything at the scene?" Brett snaps. "The bodies, anything?"  
  
"I only fished the kid out of the dumpster, Brett, that's all."  
  
Matt could hear Brett's breath leave him with a _woosh_ as he sighed heavily. "I'll be there soon, Foggy. Just...keep them both calm."  
  
"I'm an old hat with Matt, it's the kid I'm worried about. Shouldn't a three year old be talking already?"  
  
"Nelson, the kid possibly just witnessed a murder."  
  
Foggy's hand moved from the child's back to their hair, running a hand over it tenderly. "Yeah, fair. Brett? Hurry, okay?"  
  
"Yeah. See you soon."  
  
Foggy ended the call and held Matt and the kid closer. "We'll get through this, you two. I've got you."  
  
Matt wondered how they must look, two grown men cuddled around a toddler in the middle of the night while said toddler sobbed against Matt’s shoulder. This poor kid, stuffed in a dumpster - was it before the shots were fired? Did they know something was wrong and were trying to keep the kid safe? Or did the killer put the child in there, assuming no one would hear it crying and help them out before the trash collectors came and the child was crushed in the jaws of the machine, the last loose thread of the murder snipped cleanly off? Did the kid even realize what had happened? Were they old enough to understand that those two people were never coming back? “Kid? Can you tell us your name?”  
  
Another head shake and a hiccup and Foggy held them both closer. “Ooh child, things are gonna get easier,” he crooned softly, petting the kid’s hair. “Oooh child, things’ll get brighter.”  
  
“Your singing’s gonna make the kid cry worse, Fog,” Matt teased weakly, even as he felt the child’s body relax in his arms.  
  
“Bite me,” Foggy muttered playfully at Matt, keeping up the tune of the song. “Someday we’ll get it together and we’ll get it all done, someday when your head is much lighter… someday we’ll walk in the rays of the beautiful sun, someday when the world is much brighter…”  
  
Foggy continued to sing softly, holding both Matt and the kid close.  
  
—  
  
The moments after the police arrived on scene were all a blur to Matt, though it was strange to be tucked away at the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the child still held in his arms while Foggy talked to Brett. It wasn’t exactly weird that Foggy was in control of the situation - Foggy always kept his head in a crisis, managing to compartmentalize his own freak-outs to minor things, or sort through it all in a moment of some quiet downtime and with a pile of junk food and some remarkably terrible sci-fi movies.  
  
(Late night gigglefests in college spring to mind, because when Foggy could not take in any new information when studying for finals, and Matt’s fingers were too numb to read the braille of his books, they would sit pressed too close together on Foggy’s bed with Foggy’s laptop in his lap and Foggy’s body heat was a pleasant warmth against Matt’s side, even on the hottest days of the semester when even clothing more than his boxers was just _too much_. He remembers being tipsy and warm, falling asleep against Foggy’s side as Foggy described an evil, glowing psychic brain in a fish tank that somehow reminded him of their Torts professor.)  
  
“Sir? We need to look over the child, so if you could surrender them to us-”  
  
The kid went stiff in Matt’s arms and clung tighter to him with a whimper, and Matt hugged them tighter to his chest. “Over my dead body.” Whoops, that came out more menacing than he intended.  
  
“…um…”  
  
“Matt!” Foggy rushed over, Brett at his side. “Sorry, sorry - he’s had a rough night. What’s going on?”  
  
“We need to examine the child, but this man is being… obstinate about surrendering the child to us.”  
  
Matt clenched his jaw and tucked the child’s face into his throat and resisted the urge to growl. “He’s Murdock Stubborn,” Foggy said fondly, resting a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Like Iowa Stubborn, but worse.”  
  
“…what the hell are you talking about, Nelson?”  
  
Foggy sighed, a long suffering sound. “Musical theater is lost on you, Mahoney.”  
  
“I’m sorry I have better things to do with my time than sit around and watch musicals.”  
  
“Sirs, the child-”  
  
“You can do an exam while Matt’s still holding them, right? The kid’s frazzled and Matt’s nerves are pretty shot, and them holding each other is helping with all this loud noises and awful smells and bright light stuff going on. Does that work for you, Matt?”  
  
Foggy squeezed Matt’s shoulder, and Matt scowled darker before relenting. “…fine.”  
  
“Hey kiddo, the nice doctors need to look you over right now to make sure you’re not hurt, and they’re gonna ask you questions, okay?”  
  
“The kid is a toddler, Nelson, they’re not gonna understand what you’re talking about-”  
  
“And kids understand way more than you think - talking to them like they’re an idiot isn’t going to help them learn anything, Brett.” Foggy returned his attention to the child in Matt’s lap. “You need to answer the nice doctors’ questions as best you can, okay?”  
  
Matt could feel the child shake their head ‘no’. “How about this - you whisper your answers to the doctors to me, soft as you can, and I’ll tell them what you say? I might not be able to see very well, but my hearing is very good, no one but me will be able to hear you.”  
  
A long pause, considering, and then a slow nod.  
  
“Okay, if you could just turn to face us…?” The child turned in Matt’s lap, clinging tightly to Matt’s arm. “Very good! What’s your name, little one?”  
  
Matt bent his head low, and a tiny voice said “Peter.”  
  
“His name is Peter.”  
  
And so it went, back and forth with Peter whispering answers to questions for Matt to parrot back to the EMTs (”How old are you?” “Three.” “Do you know when your birthday is?” “October Fourteenth.” “Do you hurt anywhere?” “He says his chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because he was injured when he was put into the dumpster, or if he is just upset.” “Can we lift your shirt and check, Peter?” “Yes.”) And Foggy stood there like a sentinel as Matt fought the urge to snarl at the EMTs when Peter whimpered and went tense in Matt’s arms.  
  
“You’re being so good, Peter, and so brave. I’m really proud of you, Peter, I know this must be really scary for you,” Foggy said softly, running fingers through Peter’s hair. “Thank you so much for letting us try and help, Peter.”  
  
Peter sniffled and turned his face up to Foggy as the EMTs listened to him breathe, cheeks damp and eyes welling up with new tears.  
  
“Well, the good news is he is a fine, physically healthy three-year-old boy,” The EMT said, peeling off his rubber gloves as he tucked away the stethoscope.  
  
“Physically,” Foggy said, voice like frost crackling on dead leaves in spite of the warm weather.  
  
“Emotionally… well, time should be able to help with that.”  
  
“And therapy,” The other EMT said, zipping closed an examination kit. “Lots and lots of therapy.”  
  
Matt made a rude noise, and Foggy reached up to run his fingers through Matt’s hair. “Eventually.”  
  
“Hey, Foggy - CPS is here for the kid,” Brett said, and a man in a cheap wool suit stood behind him, wearing cheap cologne that gave Matt a headache and did nothing to mask the heavy stench of stress hormones that hung around the guy like a cloud. “They’re gonna take him to an orphanage while we look for any surviving family to take him in.”  
  
Peter turned to cling tighter to Matt, tiny hands fisting in Matt’s shirt, and even Foggy could hear the soft ‘wanna go _home_ ’ Peter whispered to Matt. “…Why not let us take care of him for now?” Foggy said, and Matt could hear the swish of his hair as he turned his head to look at Brett and the man from CPS. “The kid’s traumatized enough, and he trusts Matt and I - the last thing he needs is to be taken away to some place with a million other kids clamoring for attention and get ignored.”  
  
“Sir, I really can’t-”  
  
“It’s not like no one will know where he is - Matt and I will take the kid to Matt’s place, we’ll give him a bath, get him fed and do all those taking care of baby things that people do with traumatized three-year-olds. I’ve got nieces and nephews, I know this song and dance. Matt and I can look after the kid until you find his family.”  
  
Matt held his breath as the silence stretched, the speaking looks being exchanged between the three men completely lost on Matt - not that he could pay attention to anything but the even, easy beat of Foggy’s heart, how he had said ‘Matt and I’ without hesitation, like their whole friendship wasn’t on thin ice even with Foggy’s comforting touches and easy hugs, like it made perfect sense for them to simply raise a child together.  
  
He had never been more thankful that Foggy couldn’t hear his heart, because it was honestly kind of embarrassing at how fast it was beating, how Matt was almost positive that if his feelings had their way, little pink hearts would appear around him like they did in the half-remembered cartoons from his childhood when someone was around the object of their affections.  
  
“…and if we don’t find his family?” Brett asked, the first to break the silence.  
  
“We will talk about that when it happens, _if_ it happens.”  
  
Brett snorted, and the man from CPS just sighed heavily. “I really-”  
  
“You two can come down to the station tomorrow to give your statements. Get the kid taken care of, alright? He looks ready to drop off any second,” Brett said over the guy. “…I’ll have a car come get you three in the morning, okay?”  
  
Foggy squeezed Matt’s shoulder. “Matt? Your vote?”  
  
“…come around ten, that should give us enough time to do morning routine stuff.”  
  
“Ten it is! C’mon, let’s get home and into some less stinky clothes, yeah? Maybe there’s a bodega we can pop into on the way home to get some diapers or something-”  
  
Peter shook his head and Matt frowned. “You sure?” A nod. “You’re potty trained, huh?” Another nod - Peter had apparently talked enough for one night.  
  
“Awesome - good on ya, kiddo!” Foggy said, bright and cheerful. “Success like that deserves a special treat hm? What do you want to have for supper?”  
  
“Isn’t it a little late to be eating?” Matt was getting to his feet, and shifting carefully so Peter wasn’t jostled too badly as he shed the blanket and reached for his cane.  
  
“We don’t know when the last time Peter ate was, and I’m not sending him to bed on an empty stomach. So. Food. You’re eating, too, Matthew. Here, I’ll hang onto your cane for you, so you can carry Peter. Pete? Any votes on what food you want?”  
  
Matt handed Foggy his cane before he slid his hand into the crook of Foggy’s elbow, tipping his head down to listen to Peter’s quiet whisper of ‘mcncheez’ as the toddler tucked his face into Matt’s neck and sniffled. “Mac and cheese?” A nod and another sniffle. “Peter votes mac and cheese.”  
  
“Then that’s what our brave boy will have tonight. We will feast like… broke college students, since every place with decent mac and cheese is closed this late, so we have to used the boxed stuff.”  
  
Matt tightened his hand on Foggy’s arm as they walked. “Seriously? Foggy, do you know what kind of crap is in that stuff?”  
  
“Matt, if you honestly think I am going to start making my mom’s from scratch mac and cheese recipe at-” Foggy paused, his fingers going to Matt’s watch to feel the time. “-eleven o’clock at night, you’ve got another thing coming. I am not making Peter wait that long to eat something. Don’t make that face - we’ll do better for breakfast, okay? Actually…” Foggy hummed, pulling out his phone and thumbing through it - he had long since mastered the skill of using a smart phone with only one hand - before he found what he was looking for. “I can make these… should be able to get what I need from Mr. Rodriguez’s place…”  
  
Mr. Rodriguez owned the bodega on the corner of Matt’s block, and always gave Matt an extra bit of egg and bacon on his breakfast sandwiches. “Fog?”  
  
“Well, maybe not the mini muffin tin.”  
  
Matt frowned. “Why… why would you need one of those?”  
  
“My sister makes these little mini muffin things for James - remember how nuts she was going about getting him to eat veggies? These things are made with squash puree and grated carrots and make, like, twenty four mini muffins that are perfect for little toddler hands to eat. They’re pretty good when you’re not a toddler, too, but yeah. So delicious and a serving of veggies. The mac and cheese I can bulk out with a can of tuna and a can of peas.”  
  
Was this what it was like to be a parent? Talking about ways to make sure your kid ate his veggies and how to stretch a box of mac and cheese to make it more filling? “…sounds good, Fog.”  
  
“Hey, when Mom and Dad had to work late at the store, that is what I made for Candace when we were younger. If it was earlier in the day, I’d make it all from scratch, but I reiterate, it’s eleven o’clock at night and only the twenty-four hour bodega is open. Besides, these are something I can mix up and bake while making dinner and then we know for sure we’ve got stuff for him to eat tomorrow, too.”  
  
Matt nodded, and absolutely refused to cater to the tiny little flutter of warmth that was spreading through his belly at the thought of raising a family with Foggy - this was only temporary. Peter probably had other family somewhere who would love to take him in and raise him. Matt couldn’t allow himself to become so attached.  
  
(Too late.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…you’d’ve made a great therapist, Foggy.”
> 
> “Are you kidding? I’d turn all my patients into high functioning alcoholics.”
> 
> “It works for Tony Stark.”
> 
> “Tony Stark can afford to be a high functioning alcoholic.”

By the time they had finished their shopping at Mr. Rodriguez’s bodega (the kind old man had thrown in a small package of animal crackers for Peter, thinking that Matt didn’t notice while Foggy had gone around the small shop to pick up what he needed, and spent the whole time Foggy shopped telling Matt stories about his oldest grandchild who just had a baby of her own with her husband with a speed that had had the family jokingly counting the days between the wedding and the date of birth), Peter’s stomach was starting to make soft gurgling noises that indicated a need for a visit to the toilet and _soon_.  
  
Foggy lifted Matt’s keys from his pocket and let them into the apartment where Matt made a bee-line for the bathroom to get Peter on the toilet. “I’m gonna get supper started,” Foggy called after him. “Can you give Peter a bath? The soap you use on yourself should be gentle enough for him, too.”  
  
“We don’t have anything to change him into-” Matt called back as he set Peter down. “Do you need help using a grown-up toilet, Peter?” Matt kept his hand on Peter’s hair, feeling the boy shake his head no. “You sure?” A nod. “Okay - call for help when you need to wash your hands, okay? I’ll hear you.” Another nod before Matt left Peter in the bathroom to do his business on his own. “Fog- seriously, what is he gonna wear?”  
  
“Wrap him up in one of your t-shirts or something while I get his clothes washed. Do you think there was a diaper bag or something full of Peter’s stuff with him? I didn’t see anything like that when I found him in the dumpster.”  
  
“And there’s no way a couple would be out and about with a toddler and not have some sort of bag of stuff with them, right? Snacks, a change of clothes, diapers, whatever?”  
  
“Exactly. So what does it say that there wasn’t anything like that with them - that we know of, anyway. We didn’t exactly search the scene.”  
  
Matt scowled. If only he hadn’t been so-  
  
“Stop whatever line of self-flagellating thinking you’re on right this second, Matt,” Foggy said, a hard undercurrent to his tone. “This is not your fault.”  
  
“If I had been there sooner-”  
  
“You are one man, Matty. You’ve got amazing skills and abilities, but you cannot be everywhere at once. You can’t save everyone, okay? You might not have been able to save those two people, but we can help Peter. Okay?”  
  
“But if I had- If I hadn’t lost it at the scene, if I had been able to get out of my own damn head for just a few seconds-!”  
  
Foggy turned and drew Matt into a tight hug. “Matt. I want you to listen to me, okay? Cut. Yourself. Some slack. You’ve been having a rough week. Work is stressful, your night job is even more stressful, and you haven’t been sleeping well. Would you have been able to handle the situation if you _hadn’t_ been thinking about your Dad earlier tonight? Maybe. Or maybe not, maybe you would’ve gotten lost in your head anyway, because you wanna know something, Matt? When it doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, your brain is the biggest asshole you know. If you didn’t have the trauma you do - something which has been _scientifically documented_ to have a permanent effect on a person’s brain chemistry - you might’ve been okay. Or you might’ve lost it in panic because, uh, holy shit who the fuck just comes across a couple of dead bodies everyday? You have to work with what you have, and develop methods on dealing with it when your shit falls short. And you know what? You did great with Peter, Matt. You got yourself out of your own head long enough to focus on him and after that you were okay. Ish.” Foggy pulled back. “I am dealing with my freak out by channeling it into what my mom calls ‘nesting habits’ - cooking, cleaning, making sure people are taken care of. That is my coping mechanism. Yours is…?”  
  
“…putting on a mask and protecting Hell’s Kitchen.”  
  
“…we’ll work on some alternatives for when that’s not an option,” Foggy said, though his smile was evident in his voice. “…is it just me or has Peter been way too quiet in there?”  
  
Matt tilted his head to listen. “…He’s crying again, but he’s using the toilet normally.”  
  
“Poor kid… seriously, go get one of those soft t-shirts I know you have - no zip front anythings, he could hurt himself on the zipper. If tomorrow we find out it’s gonna take more time for them to find anything on Peter’s family, we’ll go shopping for some changes of clothes for him.”  
  
Matt swallowed hard. “…Thank you, Foggy. For helping me with this.”  
  
“We’re a team, aren’t we? Best friends for life, no matter where life takes us.”  
  
“…are we?” Matt asked, and it almost hurt to hope so hard. “Are we still best friends? After-after everything?”  
  
Foggy slung an arm around Matt’s shoulders and tugged him close. “You know, Matt? I’m pretty sure we are. We just… have to work on the secrets thing. And the heartbeat thing. And all sorts of other things, but friendships are compromises and. …We’ll talk more when Peter’s asleep, okay?”  
  
Matt hugged Foggy back. “…you’d’ve made a great therapist, Foggy.”  
  
“Are you kidding? I’d turn all my patients into high functioning alcoholics.”  
  
“It works for Tony Stark.”  
  
“Tony Stark can afford to be a high functioning alcoholic.”  
  
Matt chuckled and pulled away. “I’m gonna go check on Peter and get him cleaned up.”  
  
“Give a holler if you need help - while I have been told three year olds are not, in fact, actually gremlins, I have never seen them wet or fed after midnight. Be on your guard.”  
  
Matt snorted. “Can you really picture Peter as a gremlin?”  
  
“Not in the slightest, but one can never be too careful,” Foggy hummed as he moved about in Matt’s kitchen.  
  
Matt shook his head with a soft snort before going to the bathroom and knocking. “Peter? You okay in there?” There was a soft swish of Peter shaking his head. “…I need you to use your words, Peter, I can’t tell what you’re doing.” A lie, but it was better to try and get him talking than to let him fall into bad habits when dealing with blind people.  
  
A whisper. “…stuck.”  
  
“You’re stuck?”  
  
“…uh huh,” Peter whispered, almost softer this time.  
  
“…would you like it if someone came in and helped?”  
  
A wet sniffle. “Uh huh.”  
  
“Do you want Foggy, or should I come in?”  
  
“…Unca Ben.”  
  
Matt flinched. He could only guess who that was. “…your Uncle Ben’s not here, Peter.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
_Oh God._  
  
Matt rested his forehead against the door. “It’s just Foggy or me right now, Peter, I’m sorry.”  
  
“...Froggy.”  
  
Matt chuckled weakly, ignoring the tightness in his throat as he lifted his head. “Uh, hey Fog?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Peter needs help in the bathroom.”  
  
“Ah- be right there! How about you grab a shirt for him to wear, and then you can grate the carrots while I give him a bath? The water is on the stove already for the pasta.”  
  
Matt could do that. Matt could do that and try to distract himself from how old Peter had sounded with those two words. He was three years old. _Three_. There should never be a point where a child sounded like that. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“You’re a peach, Matty,” Foggy squeezed Matt’s shoulder before making his way into the bathroom. “Oh no, Pete! You fell in! Moved back too far on the seat, huh? Yeah, toilets are tricky like that. Good thing you’re gonna have a bath, huh?”  
  
Matt listened to Foggy help Peter out of the toilet and with washing his hands as he felt along his drawers, searching for that one shirt he knew was in here, buried deep in his drawer. It had been Foggy’s, back in college, and Matt had borrowed it once - Foggy had been out all weekend with Marci and Matt had missed him, and it had been stupid but he had taken one of Foggy's shirts to sleep in, and when Foggy had later asked about it Matt had just grinned and said 'Oh, is it yours? I thought it fit me strange, but I couldn't see it.' and Foggy had made that snorting laugh he always did when he didn't want to laugh at one of Matt's blind jokes because they were terrible and Foggy refused to reward bad behavior. If Foggy had noticed its disappearance after that, he had never said anything to Matt about it.  
  
Matt’s fingers found their mark, the soft and worn fabric of Foggy's shirt familiar under his touch and even though it no longer smelled anything like Foggy, Matt could remember when it did, soft and warm from Foggy's body heat under Matt’s hand as they walked together on their way from class, the air chilly with the promise of winter snow that New York City could never decide if it would deliver on or not. He pulled it from the drawer, and force of habit had him bringing it to his face to smell it and he froze.  
  
It smelled like Foggy.  
  
_How?_  
  
Matt frowned. The last time Foggy had been in Matt’s apartment was during that fight. Had Foggy found the shirt then? Why didn’t he take it with him?  
  
“How’s that feel? Too cold? Good? All right then, in you go, kiddo! Feels good, yeah? No more dumpster smell, and Matt’s getting you a comfy shirt to wear - all his clothing is ridiculously comfy you know, because he’s got sensitive skin.”  
  
Matt eased open the door to the bathroom. “Which is why I brought the most comfortable shirt I own.”  
  
“Awesome, Matty, just leave it on the sink-” Foggy turned to face him and paused for a moment as he must have caught sight of what was in Matt’s hands, his heart thundering in his chest. “-right there.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
“Thanks, Matt.”  
  
Foggy turned back around to face Peter, clearly dismissing Matt from the bathroom, leaving him to set the shirt down carefully and walk out, closing the door behind himself.  
  
Matt leaned back against the bathroom door, listening. Foggy’s heart was racing, even as he scrubbed Peter with a soapy washcloth and sang about taking a bath on a Saturday night.  
  
Foggy would be an excellent father, Matt thought distantly, and then wondered if this was also part of being a parent, waiting until your kid was asleep before having soft, hissing arguments with each other.  
  
(Peter _isn’t_ their kid, though, he reminded himself sharply. He and Foggy aren’t parents - they’re not even _together_. This is temporary- this _whole damn mess_ is just _temporary_. He’ll be gone before the end of the week, don’t fucking do this to yourself, Murdock.)  
  
He pushed himself off the door to head into the kitchen - Foggy wanted him to grate carrots, and listen for the pot of water to boil and he just. Had to play it cool. Peter needed them to be stable and steady right now, and that meant a cooked, partly nutritious dinner, and muffins ready to be eaten for breakfast tomorrow before they go down to the police station to give statements.  
  
Tomorrow. _Shit_ , he had to call Karen. Matt dug his cell out of his pocket and set it down. “Call Karen.”  
  
She picked up while he was in the middle of scrubbing carrots in the sink. “Matt? Everything okay?”  
  
“Uh, define okay?”  
  
“…were you ‘hit by a car’ again?” Karen’s voice was both flat and sharp and Matt winced, and pointedly didn’t think of the monkey balloon that was floating sadly inches from the floor in the corner of the living room. “What is that noise?”  
  
Matt shut the water and felt around for the box grater he knew he had in his cupboard. “Sorry, had the sink running. And no, nothing like that. Foggy and I have to go down to the station tomorrow and give statements - we won’t be in until later, if at all.” Ah, there it was. He brought it down, along with a plate, and started grating the first of the carrots.  
  
“New client?” Her voice had perked up at the thought.  
  
“Witnesses to a murder. Sort of. We found the bodies. Ow _fuck!_ ” he hissed the last part out as his knuckles scraped against the grater.  
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
“We were out on a walk earlier tonight and we found two dead bodies, and a silently crying three year old boy in a dumpster.”  
  
“Oh sweet Jesus, that poor baby!”  
  
“Foggy’s giving him a bath right now, and I am helping make dinner by- _motherfucker!_ \- grating carrots. Ow.”  
  
“It sounds like the carrots are winning.”  
  
“Box graters are my eternal nemesis, I think,” Matt said dryly. “Even when I _could_ see I was always hurting myself on them.”  
  
“They’re kinda tricky - should I come over and help?”  
  
“No, no, Foggy and I can do this - besides, Peter is a little overwhelmed, and I don’t think more strange new people are what he needs right now.”  
  
“…they’re seriously letting you and Foggy take care of a three year old?” Karen’s voice was dry, though real concern was laced under the teasing. “Three year olds are a lot of work.”  
  
“Spend a lot of time around young children, Karen?”  
  
“…I have never been left to take care of a child ever before in my life.”  
  
“Foggy has nieces and nephews. We’re fine.” Matt chuckled weakly. “We argued about nutritional values of boxed mac and cheese on the way home. And how to get Peter to eat vegetables.”  
  
“Such good daddies!” Karen cooed with a laugh before her voice went serious. “To be honest, when you and Foggy were fighting it felt a lot like I was gonna be sent to live with Nana.”  
  
Matt flinched again, narrowly avoiding grating his knuckles _again_. “I honestly don’t think I am ready to start making jokes about Foggy and I nearly getting friend-divorced just yet, Karen.”  
  
“I wasn’t joking.”  
  
“…that makes it so much worse.”  
  
“But things are doing better now, right? You and Foggy are doing better after The Fight?” Matt liked how Karen could make things actually sound capitalized with her voice. Foggy had the same talent.  
  
Matt let out a slow breath. “…we’re getting there. I think? We were gonna talk more after we get Peter put to bed.”  
  
“Should I look up marriage counselors?”  
  
“ _Karen_.”  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing you about being married. For now.”  
  
“How is it that you make that sound more ominous than it should be, Karen?”  
  
“It’s a gift,” Karen chirped. “I’ll keep my phone close so if anything changes and you and Foggy need backup, gimmie a call and I’ll come running with whatever toddler-appropriate stuff I can get my hands on.”  
  
“Thanks, Karen.”  
  
“Good night, Matt. Say hi to Foggy for me.”  
  
The call ended and Matt sighed, finishing up grating the last of the carrots. The water on the stove was just shy of boiling, and Foggy and Peter were nearly done in the bathroom.  
  
Matt sighed again, heading into his bedroom to change out of his clothes and into a pair of sweats and his hoodie - shit, what would Foggy wear? Matt ran through the clothing he knew he had that might fit Foggy as he held his hoodie in his hands, and all he was coming up with was an old pair of boxers… and the shirt Peter was going to be wearing.  
  
“… _shit_.”

“Language, Matthew,” Foggy chided from the doorway, amused.  
  
“Gah-! Foggy!” Matt jerked, clutching his hoodie to his chest.  
  
Foggy chuckled. “Take note, Pete - it is very hard to sneak up on Matt when he’s awake. He really does have the best hearing of anyone I know.”  
  
Peter sniffled and nodded, and Matt left his hoodie on his bed before padding over to Foggy and Peter and running his hands through Peter’s hair. “Feel better after a bath, Pete?” Peter nodded against Matt’s hand. “Good. Fog - I called Karen and told her we were most likely not gonna be in tomorrow, and grated all the carrots.”  
  
“Looks like you got your knuckles a few times, too. You okay?”  
  
“I’ll live. I’m not bleeding or anything.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “I just nodded. Hey Peter, can you hang out with Matt while I make supper for us? It should only be another ten minutes or so.”  
  
Peter nodded, and shifted away from Foggy into Matt’s arms, wrapping his arms around Matt’s shoulders and tucking his face into Matt’s neck and Matt held him close. “Hey Peter,” Matt murmured. “How you holding up, kiddo?” Peter sniffled. “Yeah, I’ve been there, too, buddy. But you’re gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” Peter nodded and Matt shifted his grip slightly on Peter, wandering out of his bedroom to lean against the back of his couch and listen as Foggy puttered around his kitchen, humming.  
  
He never felt more at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the muffins that Foggy is making for Tiny Baby Peter are these: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/219330/toddler-muffins/
> 
> My sister makes them for my nephew - they are pretty good!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…Foggy. Buddy. You cannot put Josie and ‘biological clock’ in the same _thought_ much less the same sentence, unless it’s about how she took hers out back and _shot it_.”

Peter fell asleep halfway through dinner, drooling on Foggy’s shoulder as Foggy chuckled softly and finished off Peter’s bowl for him. “Poor kid. This is probably the worst day of his life and he’s only three.”  
  
“Mm. I’ve had a few of those, myself.”  
  
“Yeah… same.”  
  
Matt lifted his head from where he was pushing the mixture of macaroni and cheese, tuna, and peas around in his dish - honestly, it was better than what he had eaten in the orphanage, but he could taste the chemical slick of fake cheese in the powder the box came with. “Fog?”  
  
“Matty, I hate to break it to you, but finding you mostly dead on your floor and the resulting days after? Worst days of my life.”  
  
“…You weren’t supposed to find out like that, Foggy.”  
  
“I wasn’t supposed to find out at all, you mean,” Foggy said softly, leaning back in his chair to watch Matt.  
  
“I should’ve told you sooner, about my senses, if not-not the whole mask thing. But- I was scared, Foggy, I was so scared you’d leave and I’d be alone again. I can’t lose you, Foggy. That-that whole fight just drove it home, I can’t do this alone - not without you.” Matt hunched in on himself, feeling raw and open in ways he had honestly never felt outside of a confessional - and maybe that’s what they needed right now. He had said before that Foggy wasn’t his priest but right now, it wasn’t God he was asking for forgiveness, it was _Foggy_.  
  
There was a shift of cloth as Foggy, carefully so as to not disturb Peter, reached forward and covered Matt’s hand with his own. “You’re not gonna lose me, buddy. Not now, not ever. Avocados for life.”  
  
Matt chuckled weakly, turning his hand up so that their palms were pressed together. “Thank you.”  
  
“We’re gonna be okay, dude. But I need you to work with me on some things, yeah? I mean, I can’t hide stuff from you - I never could, apparently - so, in the spirit of fairness? You don’t hide things from me, either. Complete and total honesty.”  
  
Matt flinched. “…can we work up to that?”  
  
Foggy chuckled, giving Matt’s hand a squeeze. “Yeah - maybe when we don’t have to look after a traumatized three year old? I get the feeling that is gonna need _so much_ booze.”  
  
“All of the booze. Maybe even _two_ eels.”  
  
“Jesus, Murdock, you’ll kill us both,” But Foggy was laughing lowly, and his hand never let go of Matt’s.  
  
“To be fair, most of the lies I told you weren’t. Um. Me actively telling you lies? It was mostly letting you extrapolate from the limited amount of data I presented and not correcting you when you guessed wrong.”  
  
“ _Neeerd_ ,” Foggy said with a grin evident in his voice. “Lemme guess, that means at least half the time I thought you were off bangin’ some hottie, you were studying?”  
  
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. And I lied about having smoked weed before.”  
  
“Amazingly enough, Matt, I gathered as much on my own. …man, being high must’ve been _so weird_ for you with your senses.”  
  
“Honestly? It was pretty nice. It’s not that I couldn’t still sense things, but I didn’t… care as much about them? Like, oh. It’s a thing. I was high a lot just from being in proximity to you after you were around smokers, too. It clung to your clothes, and I am pretty sure I was low-key buzzed for at least a week when you were meeting up with those guys every day.”  
  
“That totally explains the sudden cravings for Top Taco Top China you had.”  
  
“Where else could I get burritos _and_ General Tso’s, Fog? I mean, _really_ ,” Matt scoffed before breaking into a grin.  
  
Foggy snorted. “I hear you, brother. I hear you. God, we need to be in bed.” Foggy’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “You-ah-you’re not going out tonight, are you?”  
  
He should. Just to see if he could find out _anything_ about the people who were found dead in that alleyway Peter was in. He _should_ , damn it. “…The alleyway is probably still crawling with cops - anything I could’ve been able to get from the scene will be muddied up.”  
  
“I was gonna say, you might wanna rethink it if you are, Matty. Mostly because it might set you off again and, uh, if it gets out that The Man Without Fear has panic attacks…?”  
  
“The criminals I beat up will lose all respect for me?” Matt asked dryly.  
  
“It certainly won’t make your life any easier,” Foggy sighed. “That and I kinda need you, you know, not dead on your feet when we go into the station later. So. Bed time for all good little vigilantes and their law partners… after I put away left overs from supper and pack up those mini muffins I made.” Said muffins were currently sitting on the cooling rack that Matt didn’t remember owning on the counter next to the stove.  
  
“You and Peter can take the bed, I’ll clean up from supper and pack up the muffins.” Matt swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I. Um. If you don’t wanna sleep in your suit, I think I have an old pair of boxers you can sleep in.”  
  
“Are those mine, too?”  
  
Right. The shirt. He could ask about the shirt, about why it smelled like Foggy when Foggy wouldn’t have known about it. He could ask, but did he really want to know the answer? “No, just… old.”  
  
“I knew you had the shirt. I found it during… during the fight. I’m not mad about it, by the way. I mean, I was at the time, when I found it because I was looking for clothing for you to change into that wasn’t blood soaked and torn to shreds. I was gonna take it back.”  
  
“When I pulled it out of my drawer, I noticed it smelled like you.”  
  
Foggy let out a slow breath. “I… might’ve held it for a while before putting it back after Claire left. Thought about a lot of things, decided it was better off with you, no matter what happened to…to us.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because clearly you needed it more than I do. …why did you take it?”  
  
Matt got to his feet, gathering up Foggy and Peter’s empty bowls and his own half-full one and bringing them over to the sink. “It-it smelled like you. It was comforting.”  
  
“…Is that a thing for you? Things that smell like the people you care about are comforting? You haven’t stolen anything of Karen’s yet, have you?” The words were light and teasing, but made Matt flinch anyway.  
  
“…it’s just you, really.”  
  
“Oh,” Foggy breathed. “Well, good, because you’d never fit into anything of Karen’s, and in spite of what you might think, you really cannot pull off floral patterned scarves, Matty. I’m sorry to be the one to break that to you.”  
  
“Lies, I look amazing in florals,” Matt said, taking the out for what it was as he wrapped cling wrap over his bowl, and scraped out the pot into plastic containers. _Thank you, Foggy._  
  
Foggy sighed. “I’ll run the wash in the morning, I think. Set the alarm for early and stand around the laundry room in borrowed boxers while I wash mine and Peter’s clothes.”  
  
“I’ll set an alarm for seven?” Matt grouped the muffins into five groups of four, stealing one of the remaining four to pop into his mouth. “Mm, these are good.”  
  
“Mm. Food thief,” Foggy got up and took a muffin from the group Matt had set aside. “If I was making them just for me, I’d add more spice to them, but. Well. Baby palates prefer blander food and you don’t count, mister super taster.”  
  
“…babies prefer blander food?” Matt held up another muffin for Foggy to eat, breath catching as Foggy took it into his mouth right from Matt’s fingers and he prayed Foggy was too tired to notice.  
  
“Evolutionary thing to prevent poisoning,” Foggy hummed. “Bitter and metallic tastes tend to mean poison, which is why getting little kids to eat veggies is ridiculously hard.”  
  
“Hence hiding them in sweet things?” Matt ate the last muffin that wasn’t already packed up and put everything into the fridge.  
  
“Exactly. It’s also why lead paint on kids toys was such a big deal - it’s sweet.”  
  
“…do I wanna know how you know all this?”  
  
“Candy freaked out when she first got pregnant with James, remember? I did a ton of research with her.”  
  
“I remember now - you helped her out instead of studying for that Punjabi exam.”  
  
“Your constant digs at my Punjabi skills are getting stale, Matthew.”  
  
“Like your Punjabi skills?”  
  
“Bite me,” Foggy muttered, shifting Peter.  
  
“…seriously, Fog, you and Peter can take the bed - the boxers that should fit you are in the top drawer on the right, on the left side.” Matt picked up the dish towel that had been under the muffin tin, twisting it in his hands just to give them something to do.  
  
“Matt, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”  
  
Matt twisted the towel tighter in his hands. “But-”  
  
“If you’re gonna get that bent out of shape about it - seriously, deep breath and relax - all three of us can share. It wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed.”  
  
_The Lord is testing me_ , Matt thought to himself as Foggy walked off into the bedroom, and the towel in his hands ripped in half, startling Matt out of tracking Foggy and Peter’s heartbeats through the apartment. _This is a test because of my actions as Daredevil. It has to be.  
  
_ “Matt,” Foggy’s voice was soft as he set Peter down on the bed. “Leave the dishes, Matt, we’ll take care of them tomorrow.”  
  
“I-”  
  
“I know you’re about to argue with me, Matthew. Don’t. Come to bed, okay?”  
  
Matt chuckled weakly and set the pieces of towel down on the counter as he slowly made his way to the bedroom, listening as Foggy changed out of his suit pants and shirt and into the stretched out pair of boxers he dug out of Matt’s drawer. “You always did have my number, Fog.”  
  
“Mm,” a soft brush of cloth against cloth as Foggy folded his suit to rest on Matt’s dresser before he climbed into bed, shifting Peter carefully as Matt settled in on the other side. “For every thing I realized I didn’t know about you, I know seven other things to match it. I don’t know the sound of your heart when you lie, but I know you like the color red, but wear black and blue more often than not - and I don’t mean bruising, either.”  
  
“Foggy-”  
  
Foggy shifted, running a hand gently over Peter’s hair. “Is this what it’s like for you? When you help people as Daredevil?”  
  
“I don’t take them home with me-”  
  
“Except Hottie McBurnerPhone.”  
  
“I told you-”  
  
“You did not tell me anything, but that is not a story for bedtime, Matty.”  
  
“…what does this feel like to you, then?”  
  
“This makes me feel like I would take on the world to help this little boy. If it meant helping him stay safe, I’d take on every mugger, mobster, and two-bit car thief this city has with my bare hands. I’d go toe to toe with Captain America if I had to.”  
  
“That’s… sort of what it’s like.”  
  
“Except you actually do it.”  
  
“Mm. …Foggy?”  
  
“Yeah Matt?”  
  
“What does Peter look like?”  
  
Foggy sucked in a sharp breath. “…I’m not going to tell you that, Matt.”  
  
Matt sat up in bed, frowning. “Why?”  
  
“Because you’re already too attached to him, Matt. Just - I’m trying to spare you a little bit of pain here, when they find his family.”  
  
“And what about you?”  
  
“Just go to sleep, Matt,” A shift of blankets as Foggy tucked them up more over Peter. “I’m an old hand at this.”  
  
“Foggy?”  
  
“Good night, Matt.”  
  
Matt listened as Foggy settled deeper into the pillow. “…good night, Foggy.” He settled onto his side, facing Foggy and Peter, listening to their soft breathing and steady heartbeats as he drifted off into sleep.  
  
Matt wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when something woke him. “…hm?”  
  
“Go back to sleep, Matt,” Foggy murmured softly, easing himself out of bed. “I’m just doing the laundry… and stealing your robe so that I’m not standing around in borrowed underwear.”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Uhg why o’clock,” Foggy murmured. “We got a good couple of hours in, you and Peter can sleep longer. You run on impressively little sleep as it is, Matt.”  
  
“Mm,” Matt stretched, taking care not to jostle Peter. “You’ll be okay-?”  
  
“Unlike you, I know how to work the washing machines in your building, Matt.”  
  
“The art of separating my darks and lights is a little lost on me, Fog.”  
  
Foggy snorted, trying to cover the noise up with a long suffering sigh. “It is too early for me to laugh at your blind jokes, Matt.”  
  
“So you admit that you laugh at them.”  
  
“I am not rewarding your terrible blind Dad jokes, Matt.”  
  
“Mm, of course you’re not, Foggy,” Matt rolled over onto his side, listening to Peter’s slow and steady sleeping heartbeat as he drooled on the pillow and Matt tucked his face deeper into his own pillow.  
  
“Stop sleep profiling Peter, Matt.”  
  
“Never,” Matt muttered from the depths of his pillow. “I promised I’d look after him.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you do that - I have laundry to run in a building that has no elevator.”  
  
“At least it’s not a full load.”  
  
“How the heck do you manage?”  
  
“It’s a wonderful thing, really - I have an arrangement with my dry cleaners: I pay extra, they have someone come collect my clothes every week, and then deliver them to me when they’re finished.”  
  
“I have _got_ to get the blind thing going for me, you get all the awesome hookups.”  
  
“You caught me, Foggy - I’m only telling people I’m blind for all the social benefits it brings.”  
  
Foggy paused in the middle of gathering up his and Peter’s clothes from where he left them on Matt’s dresser. “Would you pretend to be sighted if you thought you could get away with it?”  
  
Matt lifted his head from his pillow and sat up, turning to face the direction Foggy was standing in. “I - no. Because I can’t. I know you seem to think that I somehow am not ‘ _really_ ’ blind or whatever because of how my other senses compensate, but there are still things I don’t _know_ , Foggy. Like-like what’s shown on a screen without sound, or the color of the fur on the dog outside. There’s so much detail in the world that I miss out on, and hearing heartbeats and tasting the fact that the ice cream I bought used the milk from three different cows to make will never, ever make up for that. I don’t even know what you look like when you smile, Foggy.”  
  
“Matt…” Foggy sighed after a moment of silence. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. That I ever made you feel… bitter about being blind, or that you should somehow be _more_ blind than you are.”  
  
“Foggy, no, that’s not-”  
  
“And, if you need me to, if it is something you _want_ , I will fill in those missing details for you, like I did before. The color of that dog’s fur, the particular shade of blue the sky is in the mornings versus in the afternoon, and the shades of purple it turns when the sun sets. The types of flowers on Karen’s scarf, and…” Foggy swallowed hard. “And Matt? I’ll tell you every time I smile.”  
  
Foggy’s heart was steady, and Matt could feel his own pulse hummingbird fast at the hollow of his throat. “…I’d like that Foggy. I’d really like that.”  
  
“I’m still not telling you what Peter looks like.”  
  
“Falling down on the job already?”  
  
“Saving you from yourself.”  
  
Matt let out a soft huff. “Really, Foggy?”  
  
“You have an amazing tendency to run, not walk, towards the path of self-destruction, Matt. And I told you last night, you are already way too attached to Peter.”  
  
“And you telling me what he looks like is gonna, what, make that worse?”  
  
“Matt, it is bad enough that when Brett finds-”  
  
“ _If_.”  
  
“ _When_ , Matthew. What are you gonna do when Peter’s family comes for him? Fight them off? Put on that mask with it’s dinky little horns and put the fear of the Daredevil into them?”  
  
Matt flinched. “No, of course, I would never - of course Peter belongs with his family, Foggy.”  
  
“Uh huh. And when they come for him, it’s gonna break your heart, Matt. I just-” Foggy let out an explosive breath. “I just want to make it as easy on you as I can.”  
  
“Who’s gonna make it easy on you, Fog?”  
  
Foggy snorted. “Maybe I’ll finally win over Josie’s heart with my sad noises about biological clocks.”  
  
“…Foggy. Buddy. You cannot put Josie and ‘biological clock’ in the same _thought_ much less the same sentence, unless it’s about how she took hers out back and _shot it_.”  
  
“Yeah, okay, point. But I’ll be okay, buddy. I promise.”  
  
“…if you’re not-”  
  
“You and I can make sad noises about biological clocks at Josie together, then.”  
  
Matt snorted. “Sounds about right, yeah.”  
  
“Get some more sleep, Matt. You need it.”  
  
Matt settled down against the pillows and lifted a hand to rest against Peter’s back. “Mm. Thank you, Foggy.”  
  
“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”  
  
Matt let his eyes drift closed as Foggy slid into Matt’s robe, sighing a little when it wouldn’t stay closed around his middle even after he tied it, and slid his feet into a pair of slippers before heading out the door, humming to himself. Matt listened, following Foggy’s humming and heartbeat as he moved through the halls of Matt’s building, down the steps and into the basement with the basket of laundry soap and dryer sheets that Matt had bought in a vain hope of saving money from his dry cleaning bill right up until Foggy had asked why half of Matt’s shirts were pink and Matt gave up doing his own laundry as a bad job.  
  
He could hear Foggy in the laundry room, setting up the washer as he hummed - he’d gone from pop songs to musicals, if Matt was recognizing Foggy’s off-key humming of the opening bars to ‘I Dreamed A Dream’ correctly… he couldn’t always tell with Foggy. Under Matt’s palm, Peter’s breathing hitched as he whimpered in his sleep, and Matt went from drowsy calm to awake in record time.  
  
“Peter?” Another whimper. “Peter it’s okay, you’re safe now, I promise.”  
  
Peter shifted, tucking himself up against Matt’s chest as he sniffled. “…Froggy?”  
  
“Foggy’s doing laundry right now - so you have clean clothes to wear, even though it’s the same stuff you wore yesterday.” Peter nodded, pressing his eyes against Matt’s neck even as Matt hugged Peter close and rolled onto his back, leaving Peter lying down on Matt’s chest. “Did you have a nightmare?” A nod. “Would you like to tell me about it?” Head shake. “Okay. Want to try getting some more sleep? We can stay just like this, if that’s what you want.” Another nod, and Peter shifted again to settle on Matt’s chest more comfortably as Matt arranged himself to be sitting up slightly against the pillows. “There. All good?” A nod. “Sleep well, Peter.”  
  
Peter fell back asleep fairly quickly after that, and Matt let himself doze, once again seeking out the steady beat of Foggy’s heart in the basement of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this fic - I just was trying to figure out how to break up this bit and the next into chapters! Next one should be posted soon!
> 
> And even though I haven't replied to everyone, I do read your comments and I want to thank you all for reading this story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, man, they pulled me up here from Bed Stuy. Watched that mess on TV, though. But that Daredevil guy running around - that’s some Batman level pathology shenanigans.”
> 
> “Batman?”
> 
> “No one puts on a mask to beat the crap out of people without being in the need of some serious therapy.”

Matt’s alarm went off at seven, and he and Foggy groaned in unison. Wait, Foggy? “Fog?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“When did you get back with the laundry?”  
  
“Half-hour ago. You and Peter were out cold, didn’t wanna wake you.”  
  
Peter wriggled in Matt’s grip. “Potty…” He whispered, and Matt set him down on the floor carefully.  
  
“You remember where it is?”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“Remember to call out when you need help.”  
  
“And be careful how you sit, okay?” Foggy added. “You don’t wanna fall in again.”  
  
Peter nodded and toddled off to the bathroom, and Matt flopped back against the pillows. “…Brett said he was sending the car at ten, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Foggy said around his yawn.  
  
“We-” Matt yawned again himself. “We can sleep more, maybe? I mean, the laundry’s done, Peter’s breakfast is made-”

  
“And our own breakfast?”  
  
Matt groaned. “I am so tempted to just have Karen meet us at the station with coffee and bagels. Then they can question us at the same time while she watches Peter and-”  
  
“And we can spend the whole rest of the day either getting drunk, or shopping for stuff for Peter, depending on what Brett tells us.”  
  
“Mm. Good plan. You always have the best plans, Foggy.”  
  
Foggy snorted, “Lie, you hate all of my plans.”  
  
“Truth, I love your plans because most of them involve us spending time together.”  
  
Foggy hooked his pinky around Matt’s. “…yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one.”  
  
Matt wanted to roll onto his side, wrap his arm around Foggy’s middle and hook a leg over his. He wanted to slip his hand inside the borrowed robe and feel the softness that was Foggy’s stomach under his palm and fingers, press his face in Foggy’s throat and breathe in his scent. He wished Peter was asleep in the other room, with his own bed, so Matt could then slide his hand down, slip under the stretched out waistband of Foggy’s borrowed boxers and Matt could jerk him off, feel him grow hard in his hand as Matt would grind against Foggy’s hip and mouth at Foggy’s neck. Foggy makes the best noises during sex, Matt knows, because there is nothing quite like listening in on your roommate when he thinks you’re gone for the night and he jerks himself off in your room (or had brought Marci over) and you stand in the lobby of your dorm listening to him like a _creeper_ before taking off back toward the library as fast as pretending to be competent _and also blind_ will allow.  
  
Instead, Matt squeezed Foggy’s pinky with his own. “…seriously we should just go back to sleep.”  
  
“Mm. When Peter gets out of the bathroom.”  
  
Matt yawned, tipping his head to the side. “…he’s finished and needs help.”  
  
“On the one hand, I feel like this is a severe violation of Peter’s privacy when you do that.”  
  
“And on the other?”  
  
“On the other, he is practically mute and very tiny and needs all the help he can get.” Foggy grunted as he sat up. “I’m gonna go help him, and then more sleep. Reset your alarm, okay?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Matt hummed, listening as Foggy shifted off the bed and went to help Peter in the bathroom. It was weird, how often he found himself doing that. Then again, he and Foggy hadn’t shared living space since they graduated Columbia. He had always unconsciously (and, sometimes, very _very_ consciously) tracked Foggy when they lived together, and clearly he was just falling back into old habits. Like slipping on an old sweater you used to wear all the time and finding it still fit perfectly.  
  
Foggy came back in with Peter, climbing back into bed and settling Peter carefully between him and Matt. “All set?”  
  
“Mm,” Matt rolled over onto his side toward Foggy and wrapped an arm around his side, tucking Peter between their bodies. “Sleep, Fog.”  
  
Peter sighed and tucked his face against Matt’s shoulder as Foggy yawned. “See you in a bit, Matty. Pete.”  
  
“Night night, Froggy,” Peter murmured softly.  
  
“G’night Peter,” Matt murmured against his hair.  
  
“Night night.”  
  
Matt found himself drifting awake again, the crackle of a radio two floors below turning on. “-ood morning New York! It is nine-forty-five and I gotta say people, it is a _beautiful_ day out there today for those of us who love sweltering heat!”  
  
“…son of a bitch,” Matt whispered, and at some point in his sleep, Matt’s hand had gone from resting on Foggy’s arm outside of the robe to being pressed against Foggy’s side inside it, fingertips just shy of slipping under the waistband of Foggy’s boxers to curl over his hip.  
  
“Language,” Foggy murmured sleepily, pressing his foot against Matt’s calf from where he had slipped a leg between Matt’s while they slept and curling his toes. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“We’ve got fifteen minutes until Brett gets here.”  
  
“… _what?_ ”  
  
Matt turned his torso away from Foggy and Peter, who whined in his sleep at being disturbed, to swat at his clock until he hit the button that announced the time, a feminine robotic voice cheerfully telling him that it was now nine-forty-six am. “… _crap_.”  
  
“I thought I told you to set an alarm, Matt!” Foggy was moving, rolling to the side with his feet hitting the floor in record time as Peter sat up and yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “ _Uhg_ \- c’mon, Peter, time to get dressed! Do you know how to dress yourself?” A nod. “Alrighty, kiddo, then I need you to do that while I get dressed myself, okay?” A nod as Foggy set out Peter’s clothes on the bed.  
  
Matt was moving around his room to his closet, grabbing the first things out of it that he laid hands on. “I can’t believe this-”  
  
“Matty, this is, like, ninety percent of my elementary and middle school morning routine memories from when I was a kid, okay? Running late and eating breakfast in the school cafeteria with tater tots and dubious rubber egg type stuff and all that jazz.”  
  
“My baby is _never_ eating dubious rubber egg type stuff, Fog. _Ever_.”  
  
Matt could feel Foggy’s stare between his shoulder blades, and he studiously ignored the look that he was no doubt being given as he shrugged into his shirt and began buttoning it in record speed. “ _Your_ baby.”  
  
…he _had_ said that, hadn’t he? Shitfuck. “…so I might be more than a little attached.”  
  
“You know what? I somehow pieced that together on my own, buddy. Shocking, I know, the powers of observation and deductive reasoning astound even me.”  
  
Matt stepped into his pants, tugging them up around his hips. “You are _snarky_ in the morning before coffee, Fog.”  
  
“Lie, I am snarky all the time.”  
  
“Stuck,” Peter whispered.  
  
“Stuck?” Matt turned. “Pete?”  
  
“I got it,” Foggy said, chuckling. “He’s trying to get his head through the arm hole.”  
  
Matt chuckled. “Ah.” He finished tucking in his shirt into his pants and fastening them. “I think I can take over from here, Fog - you finish getting dressed.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I dunno, what do you think, Pete? Can we trust Matt to help you get dressed when he put his pants on backwards?”  
  
There was a soft noise - Peter was _laughing_. Foggy had gotten Peter to laugh. Matt patted himself down. “They’re on backwards? Peter, did I put my pants on backwards this morning?”  
  
Peter shook his head, still quietly giggling. “He just shook his head.”  
  
“Is Foggy just being silly?”  
  
A nod. “He nodded.”  
  
“Then I think between the two of us, Peter and I can finish getting him dressed.”  
  
“Just make sure you don’t put _his_ pants on backwards. Brett will never let us live it down.”  
  
“Worry about _your_ pants, Fog,” Matt said, amused. “Or do I need to help you with them?”  
  
Foggy’s heart sped up and his breath caught. “I think I got it covered, Matt,” He said, his voice perfectly even.  
  
“Mm. Let me know if that changes.”  
  
Peter stumbled over to Matt, holding his pants in his hands before tumbling backward into the blankets. “Oof.”  
  
“Pete? Where’d you go, bud?”  
  
“Fell.”  
  
Matt tilted his head. “Still on the bed?”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Matt chuckled and held out his hand. “Can you reach my hand? I’ll pull you up and we’ll finish getting dressed.” Peter grabbed his finger and Matt tugged gently, helping Peter to his feet and ignoring the way his heart clenched. Matt helped Peter into his pants (“Are they on backwards? No? Good.”) and helped him into his socks. “And your shoes…?”  
  
Peter pressed his head and shoulders against Matt’s stomach and shrugged.  
  
“Shoes?” Foggy asked, coming in as he fixed his tie.  
  
“Yeah, do you know where his are?”  
  
“Oh the dresser - I’ll take care of the shoes, you grab his breakfast from the fridge?” Foggy grabbed Peter’s shoes from the dresser and scooped Peter up from the bed and gave him a squeeze. “We made you muffins last night. You’ll like them, I think. I hope.”  
  
“Should I call Karen with an emergency request for bagels and coffee?”  
  
“Yes, please and thank you.” Foggy turned to Peter as he carried him out into the living room. “If you end up not liking the muffins, we can split my bagel, okay, Peter?” Peter tucked his face into Foggy’s neck and nodded, and Foggy chuckled. “Awesome. Let’s get your shoes on, yeah?”  
  
“Call Karen,” Matt said to his phone as he shrugged into his suit jacket and padded toward the kitchen.  
  
“Hey! You guys finished at the station already?”  
  
“Ah - no, sadly. We haven’t even gotten there, yet. We’re…running a little on the late side, actually. I was supposed to reset my alarm and. Um. Didn’t.”  
  
“…you guys want me to meet you at the station with breakfast for the three of you?”  
  
“Just Foggy and I, really. We made Peter’s breakfast last night. Foggy knows how to makes these little muffin things and-” Karen was snickering and Matt sighed. “-you probably don’t care about that so I am gonna just shut up on that front. Coffee and bagels, please, Karen?”  
  
“You know you guys don’t pay me enough to be your personal assistant on top of the firm’s secretary, right?” She teased.  
  
“I’ll think about letting you cuddle with Peter while Foggy and I give our statements.”  
  
“… _you’ll_ let me?”  
  
“Well, it’s ultimately up to Peter if he wants to be cuddled by you,” Matt said primly, getting two bags of muffins out of the fridge, just in case.  
  
“…okay, yeah, that makes sense. You, uh. You make it sound like you’re thinking of adopting him, you know that right?”  
  
Matt froze, listening to Foggy and Peter on the couch as they got Peter’s shoes on. “…Yeah, I might be thinking about it.”  
  
“Matt, is that wise?”  
  
“There’s a good chance it might not happen at all, Karen. There’s a good chance Peter’s gonna have family that will take him in and nothing I do or say is gonna change that but-but if I could - if I can… I want to be a father to that little boy. You’ll understand when you meet him.”  
  
Karen sighed and shook her head. “I’ll take your word for it - I will see you two at the station, okay, Matt?”  
  
“Thanks, Karen.” He ended the call with a sigh, just as Foggy’s phone buzzed.  
  
“Hello? Yes, this is Foggy Nelson. You’re downstairs? Sweet, thanks, we’ll be down in two shakes.” Foggy ended the call and patted Peter’s feet. “There, all set on the shoe-front. Officer Milano’s downstairs and waiting for us, Matt. You got the muffins?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Awesome, grab your cane and let’s go.”  
  
—  
  
They sat in the back of the squad car on the way to the station, the two of them crossing their seat belts in front of Peter since there was no car seat for him and neither of them were comfortable with the idea of Peter not being strapped in at all, even in the closed off back of the police cruiser.  
  
“And Karen said she’d meet us there, so you get to meet Karen, Peter,” Foggy said to the little boy, stroking his hair. “And you’ll sit with her while Matt and I talk to the nice police officers about what we know about what happened last night.”  
  
Matt wanted to flinch. There was only one person who had some idea of what happened last night, and that was the traumatized, nearly mute three year old sitting between them who whimpered when Foggy mentioned leaving him alone. “It’ll be alright, Peter - it’s just until Foggy and I are done talking to the police officers working the case, okay? Then we can go back ho-um, to my apartment.”  
  
Peter pressed his head against Matt’s side and nodded.  
  
“Okay, guys, here you are! Hand delivered safely into the arms of our loving Detective Birkshaw,” Officer Milano said, her grin bright in her voice as she opened the door for them.  
  
“Yeah yeah, thanks ‘toya,” Detective Birkshaw grumbled, stomping out her cigarette with a sigh.  
  
“Those things’ll kill ya, Lanie,” Milano said as she walked around to the other side of the cruiser, opening the door for Matt. “Hey, Murdock, my hand’s at your three o’clock if you want help getting out.”  
  
“Oh - thank you, that’s really kind of you, Officer Milano,” Matt took her hand - warm and dry and calloused - as she helped him out of the car. He honestly had been expecting to be either ignored or man-handled if she remembered he was blind.  
  
“Don’t worry too much about it, yeah? We all remember what you did for Hoffman - I mean, yeah, he was dirty and a giant tool, but you made sure he was treated right. That, and Mahoney likes you two, and he’s got a pretty good sense of people, even if it doesn’t seem to work when there’s a woman involved. Err, don’t tell him I said that, though,” She said quickly. “He gets prickly when we talk about his love life.”  
  
“ _What_ love life?” Birkshaw snickered. “Sarge is practically married to his badge.”  
  
“Considering it feels like he was one of maybe _five_ clean cops at this precinct, maybe that’s not exactly a bad thing?” Foggy said, tucking Peter’s face into his throat as he straightened up from getting him out of the car. “I mean, I know you two weren’t here for that hot mess, but it was kind of horrifying how many cops were dirty in the end.”  
  
Birkshaw lifted her hands. “Hey, man, they pulled me up here from Bed Stuy. Watched that mess on TV, though. But that Daredevil guy running around - that’s some Batman level pathology shenanigans.”  
  
“Batman?”  
  
“No one puts on a mask to beat the crap out of people without being in the need of some serious therapy,” Birkshaw said. “And access to resources other people don’t have, which means he’s either really wealthy or makes this shit himself.”  
  
“Fascinating as it would be to stand around and pick apart the motives of a possible mad-man,” Matt cut in, and oh how it stuck in his craw to refer to himself like that, how it _burned_ like acid in the back of his throat, unpleasant and thick. “I don’t think it’s good for Peter to have to listen to it, and we do have other things that need to get done today.”  
  
“Aww, he’s just a baby, he doesn’t understand,” Milano muttered, but she was peering at Peter, who tucked himself closer to Foggy, hiding his face in Foggy’s hair.  
  
Birkshaw shook her head. “Whatever - your secretary is waiting inside for you guys, by the way. How she got here with breakfast before you is a mystery to me.”  
  
“It’s why we pay her the big bucks,” Foggy said with a laugh. “Karen is amazing.”  
  
“…she single?” Detective Birkshaw asked, sly and almost _too_ casual.  
  
“Yes…? I don’t know if she’s into ladies, though, Detective.”  
  
“She doesn’t have to be, she just has to agree to a date with me in front of Mahoney.”  
  
_Ah. That’s why._ “I thought you wanted Brett to be dating people, Detective?”  
  
“Well, _yeah_ , but that’s no reason for me to make it easy on him, is it?” Birkshaw grinned at Matt. “’Sides, I’ve got a weakness for cute blondes in pencil skirts.”  
  
“Remind me to introduce you to Marci Stahl - you two will get along like a house on fire once you get past the fact that she’s a lawyer,” Foggy muttered.  
  
“Is she hot?”  
  
“Smoking.”  
  
“Does she like chicks?”  
  
“There’s been one or two ladies in her little black book, yes.”  
  
“She good in bed?”  
  
“ _This is an inappropriate conversation to be having in front of my-a toddler,_ ” Matt snapped.  
  
Foggy leaned close to Detective Birkshaw’s ear and whispered. “ _Amazing_.”  
  
Birkshaw snickered as she opened the door for them, and Matt stormed in ahead of them, baggies of muffins in one hand, and cane in the other, swinging almost angrily in front of him.  
  
“Matt! Foggy!”  
  
_Karen. Blessed Karen, Glory be Her name. She_ wouldn’t have wildly inappropriate conversations about sex in front of Matt’s son-not-son. “Hey - you got here fast.”  
  
“Because I am amazing,” Karen said, grin obvious in her voice. “Coffee at your twelve. The caffeine will make you look less like you’re a moment away from punching someone.”  
  
Unlikely, but Matt sipped his coffee with a hum. Perfect. “Well, we’re in enemy territory, you know that, Karen.”  
  
“Hey, if I can handle being in here without hitting someone, so can you. I was nearly murdered here, after all.”  
  
She was right. _Oh God. What if someone here tries to kill Peter-  
  
_ “Hey, Karen! Lovely, beautiful Karen! Peter - this is Karen Page. She works for Matt and I, and while we’re talking to the nice police officers, you’re gonna sit with her and have breakfast, okay? Karen, this is Peter.”  
  
“Hi Peter! I have a bottle of orange juice with me for you, and I have the first Harry Potter book for us to read together. I mean, I know it’s a little advanced,” she said, turning to face Foggy, “But everything else in my house is romance novels and, like, those law text books you gave me to read.”  
  
“Yeah, romance novels are at least a puberty thing and the law text books are just unreasonable to drag around with you, speaking from experience. But I’m sure Peter can keep up with you, and if not, he can try again when he’s older. You gonna be okay with him?”  
  
“Oh yeah, sure! Look at this sweet little boy, he’s not gonna give me any trouble at all.”  
  
Matt tightened his grip on his coffee cup as he heard Foggy and Karen swap toddler for coffee and breakfast sandwiches. “Oh, and Karen? Peter’s been essentially non-verbal and quiet one-word answers since last night, so he will probably just shake or nod his head if you ask him something. Don’t force it, okay? These are his breakfast, and we shouldn’t be too long, okay?” He handed her the two bags of mini muffins that she quickly tucked into her purse before adjusting her grip on Peter.  
  
“I’ll keep it in mind, Matt, thanks.”  
  
“Peter, you stick with Karen, okay? Don’t leave her side for anything until Foggy and I get back.” Matt stroked a hand over Peter’s hair. “Be good.”  
  
Peter pressed into Matt’s hand and nodded, and there must’ve been a look shared between Foggy and Karen before Matt stepped away.  
  
“Mr. Nelson, Mr. Murdock, come with me?” An officer said, clearing his throat sheepishly.  
  
“Once more into the breech, eh, Matty?”  
  
Matt gave a soft snort as Foggy pressed a sandwich into Matt’s hands - Matt was a New Yorker, after all, and every New Yorker worth their salt could balance coffee and a sandwich with everything else they were holding in their hands up to and including a broken umbrella and a squalling toddler; just like how every New Yorker knows baconeggncheese is all one word, Brooklyn has the best pizza places, and how no one who was born in New York has ever actually gone to any of the touristy hot spots just for the sake of going because _tourists_ are going to be there.  
  
They followed the officer down the hall, Foggy’s hand pressed between Matt’s shoulder blades (just because he could balance his cane, coffee, and bagel did not mean he could do so and still use his cane effectively - not even New Yorkers were miracle workers in that regard) to help guide him down the hall toward the interrogation rooms. The officer with them guided Matt into the first room they stopped at, leaving Matt alone in the room to walk the space on his lonesome as he lead Foggy away to a different room.  
  
Matt cautiously felt his way over to the chair and table, set down his coffee and bagel and cane, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter four - the end of everything I had pre-written before I started posting this! A few points to cover:
> 
> \- Is it obvious I'm a New York native? Because I'm a New York native (Brooklyn all the way, baby, yeah!). 
> 
> \- You'll notice the addition of the Original Female Character(s) tag! I saw a chance for more awesome ladies to be added and I TOOK IT. BECAUSE AWESOME LADIES BEING AWESOME.
> 
> \- I have no idea if this fic is going to jive with Season 2 at all - we won't know until I've seen it, I guess.
> 
> \- I have no idea what the update schedule for this fic is going to be from now on, as I have several projects on my plate: I just found out the other day a friend of the family is having a baby next month (why does no one tell me these things sooner?! AUGH) so I am crocheting them a baby blanket, I am crocheting a pair of shawls for the lovely onemuseleft, there is a windfall of bullshit with my insurance going on on top of my usual responsibilities around the house and it just goes on and on and on. Bleh. So all I ask is that everyone be patient with me while I try to juggle everything on top of my writing! Thank you, my lovelies~!
> 
> (oh my god, this fic has over 100 kudos - this is the most attention anything I have ever written has ever gotten ever, thank you all so much!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think they have it up on Netflix?”
> 
> “Ooh, we should check! If they do, we can watch it and play the Very Special Lesson drinking game! Take a shot every time the power of friendship prevails, when there’s significant eye contact and touching that is played off as ‘just bros being bros’-”
> 
> “Double shot if it’s between characters other than Buck and Cap, for rarity’s sake.”
> 
> “I do remember Cap and Bucky being very touchy feely in that show.”
> 
> “Lots of boob grabbing.”
> 
> “They were clearly madly in love.”

They interviewed Foggy first.  
  
Click. “What were you and Mr. Murdock doing by that alleyway last night, Mr. Nelson?”  
  
“Stretching our legs - we’d been working hard all night and Matt needed a break.”  
  
The scratch of a ballpoint pen on paper. “Mr. Murdock did?”  
  
“Yeah - he fell asleep on his case notes and had a weird dream that left him on edge. I figured we’d take a little walk, you know? Stretch our legs, get out of the office a little and into some relatively fresh New York air.”  
  
The Detective clicked his pen again, twice in rapid succession. Click click. “And you just _happened_ to come across two dead bodies, and a toddler in a dumpster?”  
  
“You make it sound like we make a habit of walking down dark alleyways at night, Detective. Matt smelled blood and heard someone sniffling - we thought someone needed help, maybe an ambulance.”  
  
Click. “… _Murdock_ smelled the blood?”  
  
“To be fair, it was a lot of blood. And, uh, he’d know what it smells like.”  
  
Click scratch scratch click. “Murdock come across a lot of blood all the time?”  
  
“No, he found his father _murdered in an alleyway when he was nine_. It leaves an impression. Scents can trigger memories and all that jazz. He freaked out when I cut myself shaving in college, once. Switched to an electric shaver after that.”  
  
Click click click and the soft shuffling of papers. “You said in your nine-one-one call he was having a traumatic flashback?”  
  
“Yeah. _That_ was scary. I mean, I’ve known Matt for years, but he hasn’t had an attack like that since he had a breakdown studying for finals our first year of Law school, and even then that was a normal panic attack, not, like, a _flashback_.”  
  
Click click click. How Foggy wasn’t gritting his teeth in annoyance at the sound, Matt had no idea. “He seemed fine when we arrived on the scene.”  
  
“…Detective, the only reason Matt seemed okay was because he focused everything on protecting Peter. Once I got him out of his head long enough to let him know someone needed help, he put all his energy into that.”  
  
“Impressive.”  
  
“Matt’s had a lot of years to work on coping mechanisms for his shit. Apparently meditation and confession helps.”  
  
“He’s Catholic?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“…and that’s not a problem in your relationship?”  
  
“Our relationship?”  
  
“Last I checked, the Church had some pretty negative views on homosexuality.”  
  
Foggy took a deep breath. “The Church is changing, Detective. And I’m bi, not gay, and my relationship with Matt has no relevance to the double homicide you two are _supposed_ to be investigating.”  
  
“Mm. I see.” Click. “How did you know the toddler was in the dumpster?”  
  
“That’s where Matt said he heard the sniffling coming from - I wasn’t expecting to find the kid _in_ the dumpster. I thought whoever was hurt was maybe hiding behind it, or something.”  
  
Scratch scratch scratch. “You said the child was crying silently.”  
  
“Yeah, but he was also sniffling and stuff, that’s what Matt heard.”  
  
“Mr. Murdock could hear someone sniffling over New York City traffic?”  
  
“It was eleven o’clock at night, Detective. New York may be the city the never sleeps but we do get lulls in traffic. Also, Matt has crazy-good hearing - you know what they say, when one sense goes, the others get stronger to compensate.”  
  
“How lucky for him.”  
  
“Tell that to when he has to listen to his neighbors’ sex lives. Fran is, like, seventy and apparently into some pretty-”  
  
_Click_. “ _Thank_ you, Mr. Nelson, that’ll be all for now.”  
  
“Happy to help, Detective. Just lemme know if there’s anything else I can answer for you.”  
  
“Of course. You can go now. Have a good day.”  
  
There was the opening and closing of the interrogation room door as Foggy walked out whistling, and strolled over to Brett’s desk. “Hey, Brett!”  
  
“Hey Fog. How you holdin’ up from last night?”  
  
“I am in _full Den Mother_ mode, my friend. I made muffins last night. _Mini muffins_.”  
  
“Oh man - the ones Candy makes for James? I love those things. Need more spice for me, though.”  
  
“I know, right?” Foggy tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned forward. “So, what can you tell me about the case, Sarge? Matt and I were talking last night, and we thought it was _really strange_ that a couple would be out and about with their baby and not have some sort of diaper bag with them, you know? Even if the kid is three and potty trained, you still need, like, snacks and toys and stuff like that?”  
  
Brett was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward. “Listen - I am only telling you this because you’re looking after the kid, okay? This was not just some kind of random mugging. Current theory is this was definitely a planned attack - the couple still had their wallets with them, no money taken or anything. I’ll let the detectives know about the diaper bag thing - the pair they got working on it don’t have kids or baby family members, they might not have thought of it. But the couple found dead? Their names are Benjamin and May Parker. Peter? Is their _nephew_. According to preliminary research, Peter’s parents dropped him off a few months ago before taking off for work-related travel - not too unusual for them, they’d done it before. I did a little more digging - Richard and Mary Parker died in a plane crash after dropping off their son.”  
  
Foggy sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh man… Does Peter know that?”  
  
“I assume so, there was a funeral. Listen, though. Richard and Mary Parker? Were SHIELD agents.”  
  
Foggy jerked back like Brett had hit him. “Are you-shit, were they SHIELD-SHIELD or HYDRA-SHIELD?”  
  
“We don’t know - they died months before that shit went down in DC. Look, as of right now there’s no one to take that kid, I need to know what your plan is.”  
  
“…what would we have to do to adopt Peter?”  
  
There was a slow creak of a chair as Brett leaned back. “Something you wanna tell me about what’s going on between you and Murdock, Nelson? Do I _finally_ get to have that talk with him?”  
  
“What? No! Nothing like that is going on between Matt and I, Brett.”  
  
“And yet you’re asking about adopting a kid together.”  
  
“Because _obviously_ I am going to be a part of that kid’s life if Matt has his way and adopts him, it might as well be legally.”  
  
“You could just adopt the kid yourself.”  
  
“…Brett. We overslept this morning, right? We all got ready to go in fifteen minutes and Matt was stressing about it and I was all ‘relax, this is pretty much my entire elementary and middle school career’ and I told him about breakfast in the school cafeteria, the tater tots, the-”  
  
“Dubious rubber egg type stuff,” Foggy and Brett said together, nodding and shuddering in shared memory.  
  
“Exactly. You know what he said to me, Brett? ‘My baby is _never_ eating dubious rubber egg type stuff, Fog. _Ever_.’ You really think I’m gonna deny Matt the chance to be that kid’s father officially when he is already saying shit like that, Brett? I know you think that defense attorney means soulless monster, but-”  
  
“Nah, just you, Nelson,” Brett said, though the grin was obvious in his voice. “…You remember Francesca Pignelli?”  
  
“Frankie Pigtails! Yeah, I remember her - she had these little star-spangle earrings that also had bells on them that she wore all the time in fourth grade, remember that?”  
  
“Yeah. She works for CPS now - I can talk to her about what you two need to do to, ah, skip to the head of the line on adopting the kid if we don’t find any other family members.”  
  
“Thanks, Brett - I owe you one.”  
  
As Foggy stood up to leave Brett leaned back. “You know, Foggy, whenever I talk to anyone else we grew up with and I mention her, the way they remember her is that she was the first girl in our class to get boobs.”  
  
“…how do you remember her, Brett?”  
  
“She shared her lunch with me once, when I didn’t have enough money to buy my own. She just sat down and split everything and started talking about Animorphs while we ate.”  
  
“Frankie’s a good egg - I can’t imagine that’s changed much, even working for the government.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“…man, what a rack, though.”  
  
“A god damned work of _art_ ,” Brett agreed.  
  
Matt swallowed hard. Foggy wanted to adopt Peter with him. Or, at least, was thinking about adopting Peter with him. Foggy wanted to start a family with Matt.  
  
(They had talked about it, once, when they were drunk because Matt could only seem to talk about feelings with Foggy when he could deny the entire conversation ever happened in the morning.  
  
“I mean, spouse and kids, that’s, like, for  _later_ , you know? Gotta  _establish_ ourselves first, make sure we can  _provide_. But, yeah, I’d like to have them some day.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. What about you, Matty?”  
  
“I never… really thought about it, I guess.”  _Lie_. “I mean, there didn’t seem to be a point in imagining something like that for me.” _‘I imagine you and I with a gaggle of children and our own little law firm-slash-butchery in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen and we’re happy and you’re in love with me the way I’m in love with you and everything is wonderful, Foggy.’ Way to have a set of reins on that imagination, Murdock. Good job._ “And… and we’re already a little like family anyway, right? You and me?”  _Please say yes…  
  
_ “…Yeah, Matty. We are. We really are.”  
  
_Truth_.)  
  
It was just to help make sure Matt got custody of Peter - it didn’t mean anything, just Foggy helping out Matt the same way he has always helped Matt, going so far above and beyond the line of basic human decency Matt couldn't breathe for it all sometimes.  
  
“-dock? Mr. Murdock?”  
  
Matt couldn’t stop the alarmed jerk of his head. When had they come in? “Ah, yes?”  
  
“You with us, Mr. Murdock?”  
  
“Yes, sorry. Was a bit lost in my thoughts, didn’t hear you come in.”  
  
“Ah. Do you get lost in thought often, Mr. Murdock?”  
  
Matt chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone?”  
  
Click. “About your father?”  
  
Matt froze, tilting his head. Yeah, they had asked Foggy about the shit with his dad, but Foggy had brought it up first… “…what does my father have to do with anything?”  
  
“You had a similar experience finding him murdered in an alleyway not all that different from the one you found those two bodies in last night. Must’ve been scary.”  
  
“Which, finding my father or finding the bodies?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
“It wasn’t exactly a trip to Disney World, no.”  
  
Click click. “What were you doing near that alleyway, anyway?”  
  
“Foggy and I were out for a walk.”  
  
“So late at night?”  
  
Matt snorted. “The dark doesn’t exactly bother me, Detective.”  
  
“…whose idea was it, to take a walk?”  
  
“Foggy's - he wanted me to get some fresh air, get out of the office and stretch my legs.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I had a nightmare about my father.”  
  
Click click. “Have those a lot? Nightmares about your father?”  
  
_If this asshole clicks his pen one more Goddamned time, I am going to jam it up his nose._ “Detective, what is the relevance of your questions about my father to this case? Neither those two people Foggy and I found, nor their child, have nothing to do with my father.”  
  
“Mm. Still, answer the question, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
Matt scowled. “Sometimes.”  
  
“Were you the one who set the course for your walk?”  
  
“There was no course, we just… were walking.”  
  
“Mr. Nelson didn’t direct you in a specific direction?”  
  
“No. We were talking while we walked.”  
  
“What about?”  
  
Matt sipped his coffee. “Work.”  
  
Click click. “I see. And you just happened to smell blood and hear a child sniffling when you neared the alleyway?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Matt said, his jaw clenching. “Detective, I have a sensitive nose and exceptional hearing. It’s not uncommon. If there’s nothing more you need from me right now, I have a three-year-old to take care of.”  
  
“Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Murdock. We’ll be in touch.”  
  
Matt nodded and got to his feet, leaving his now empty coffee cup behind as he gathered up his sandwich and cane. “If you have any other questions, I’ll be happy to help however I can.”  
  
“We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
“Mm. If you could point me in the direction of my partner…?”  
  
“Right, of course.” The detective gripped Matt’s arm and half-led, half-dragged Matt down the hall to where Foggy was sitting with Karen and Peter as they read the first Harry Potter book together, Foggy and Karen providing different goofy voices for each of the characters.  
  
“Dude, have you never led a blind person before?” Foggy said, frown evident in his voice. “He’s not a sack you just haul around.”  
  
“Not everyone’s as good at it as you are, Foggy,” Matt said fondly, subtly (or not as subtly as he hoped, he didn’t care at this point) jerking his arm out of the grip of the detective.  
  
“Whatever. Have a good day, gentlemen.”  
  
The detective walked off and Matt rubbed his arm where the detective had had a death grip on it. “So how is everything?”  
  
“Peter _really_ likes the muffins we made him! And he is enjoying Harry Potter.”  
  
“He likes the voice Foggy does for Hagrid,” Karen said fondly. “He’s… _really_ quiet.”  
  
“Yeah, but he’s a good boy, aren’t you Peter?” Peter tipped forward in Karen’s lap to press his head against Matt’s stomach before nodding, and Matt ran a hand over his hair. “Yeah. It’s okay, Peter. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”  
  
“…Did you teach him to do that?” Karen asked as Matt picked Peter up and held him close. “That thing he does when he presses against you? He doesn’t do it to Foggy and me.”  
  
“I… no, we never taught him that. Once I told him I couldn’t see him, he just… started doing that.”  
  
Karen tucked her hair behind her ear. “What a smart baby! Good job, Peter!”  
  
“Now we need to get some supplies - just to hold us over until we know for certain what the situation with him is.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Like his own bed - he can’t share with Foggy and I forever.”  
  
“…With…Foggy and you, Matt?”  
  
“…what?” Foggy asked defensively.  
  
“What what?” Matt held out his cane to Foggy, who took it from him and folded it up expertly, tucking it away before Matt slipped his free hand around Foggy’s arm.  
  
“She is giving us an eyebrow-look.”  
  
“An eyebrow-look?”  
  
“Full of judgment.”  
  
“No! No, no judgment here. It’s just… the three of you sharing Matt’s bed?”  
  
“Peter doesn’t take up much room, and it’s not like Foggy and I haven’t shared a bed before.”  
  
“…more judgment eyebrows.”  
  
“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me sleep on the couch, Foggy.”  
  
“Because you were being annoyingly sacrificial! You looked _so sad_ when you were all ‘oh no, Foggy, you and Peter take the bed, I’ll be fine out on the couch alone by myself with no one to snuggle with’.”  
  
“You _snuggled_?”  
  
“Matt is an octopus when he’s sharing a bed with someone.”  
  
“…duly noted. We can probably get a camp bed for Peter for cheap somewhere - we can worry about a more permanent solution to things later, if there is a later.” Karen shook back her hair. “I can take Peter, Matt, you should eat your sandwich.”  
  
Matt, irrationally, wanted to hold Peter tighter to him, but Karen did have a point. “…sure. Thank you, Karen.”  
  
“Eeeeee, yessss come to me, Tiny Baby Peter, and let Auntie Karen snuggle you and your adorable preciousness!”  
  
“…Karen, please do not frighten the three year old with Gollum impressions.”  
  
Karen stuck her tongue out at Foggy as she cuddled Peter close. “Lord of The Rings is for _after_ Harry Potter, Fogbert.”  
  
“ _Fogbert_?”  
  
“Don’t question me.”  
  
Matt took a bite of his bagel, and listened as Foggy and Karen teased each other and laughed, and Peter clung to Karen as he looked around.  
  
Yes. Perfect.  
  
——  
  
They had gone to several stores on their way home, picking up several changes of clothes for Peter, along with a camp bed, a set of sheets with flowers on them that Peter picked out and some soft pillows and a blanket that apparently had the cast of that old Howling Commandos cartoon from the 90s on it that Foggy insisted they needed for Peter (”It’s ‘ _Howling Commandos!_ ’ Matt, _with_ the exclamation point, or you’re doing it wrong.” “If you say so, Foggy.” “I’m not kidding! Karen, tell him!” “He’s right, Matt, the exclamation point is integral to the title.”), who hid his face in Matt’s shoulder when Foggy showed it to him but grinned the whole time Foggy and Karen had sung the theme song from memory, with Karen doing what was truly an impressive imitation of the cartoon theme’s electric guitar riffs as Foggy sang each part with a pretty good mimicry of the voices Matt only half remembered.  
  
“Do you think they have it up on Netflix?” Foggy asked hopefully as they walked into Matt’s (their?) apartment, Karen helping them carry everything and who was also going help set it all up with the understanding that they would feed her.  
  
“Ooh, we should check! If they do, we can watch it and play the Very Special Lesson drinking game!” Karen said excitedly. “Take a shot every time the power of friendship prevails, when there’s significant eye contact and touching that is played off as ‘just bros being bros’-”  
  
“Double shot if it’s between characters other than Buck and Cap, for rarity’s sake.”  
  
“I do remember Cap and Bucky being very touchy feely in that show.”  
  
“Lots of boob grabbing.”  
  
“They were clearly madly in love.”  
  
Matt frowned as he sat with Peter in his lap on the couch. “These are real people with real lives who actually existed, you guys…”  
  
“But we’re not _talking_ about the real people, we’re talking about the cartoon characters. Totally different.”  
  
“Besides, everyone knows in Real Life Cap is bangin’ Tony Stark,” Karen said, folding up the egg-crate styrofoam to lay out over the camp bed as Foggy quickly covered it with the fitted sheet.  
  
“Does Pepper Potts know about that?”  
  
“Oh _please_ , Pepper is _in_ on that shhhh—eeeeeeezey.”  
  
“…Sheezey?”  
  
“Not a word, Fogbert,” Karen muttered, putting pillow cases on the new pillows and plopping them on the camp bed. “The point is drunk-watching the cartoons of our youth!”  
  
“Maybe after Peter goes to sleep for the night?” Matt offered. “And one of us is the designated sober person, just in case?”  
  
“Look at _you_ , being all responsible!” Karen said with a bright laugh. “Not bringing down the party and _yet_ also thinking about the Tiny Precious, excellent.”  
  
Foggy laughed. “I volunteer to be the sober one.”  
  
“Your sacrifice to the cause is Noble and Just, Fogbert.”  
  
“I just want to be the one to actually get Matt’s ‘Captain America’ voice on video this time, since I _totally_ missed out on it in college.”  
  
Matt sighed. “I don’t have a Captain America voice, Foggy.”  
  
“I have _heard_ it, Matty. I know it exists.”  
  
‘ _It’s not a Captain America voice, actually,_ ’ Matt wanted to say. ‘ _It’s my Dad **pretending** to be Captain America, which is completely different._ ’ But that got caught in his throat because he remembered, vaguely, being gap-toothed and beaming up at his Dad, declaring _loudly_ that _obviously_ Dad was Captain America, because Matt was Bucky Barnes, because they were a _Team_ , duh, Dad, don’t you know anything?  
  
(”And why am I Cap again, Matty?”  
  
“Because you’re my hero, Dad! Just like Cap!”)  
  
-and Matt was just _really sick_ of having emotions about his father right now-  
  
Peter reached up and wrapped his arms around Matt’s neck and hugged him.  
  
“Peter?” Matt asked, surprised even as he hugged him back. “You okay?” A nod. “Are you sure?” Another nod, and Peter hugged him tighter.  
  
“…Maybe he thought you needed a hug, Matt? You were getting kind of… scowly.”  
  
Peter nodded again, and gave Matt another squeeze.  
  
“Oh.” Matt squeezed Peter back carefully. “Thank you, Peter. I feel much better now. Would you like Karen to continue reading Harry Potter to you? Foggy and I need to talk about something.”  
  
Peter pressed his face against Matt’s shoulder and nodded before climbing off Matt’s lap and onto the couch proper.  
  
“Matt?” Foggy asked softly, as they moved into the kitchen and Karen settled down with Peter in her lap, opening the book to where they had left off earlier and apologizing for not being as good at _all_ the voices like Foggy was.  
  
“You… you want to adopt Peter with me?”  
  
Foggy sucked in a deep breath. “…talk on the roof?”  
  
“…yeah.”  
  
“Karen, Matt and I are gonna talk on the roof, okay? I have my phone with me.”  
  
“Okay you guys… is everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah, Karen, everything is fine,” Matt said with a smile. Because Foggy wanted to have a family with him, even if he wasn’t in love with Matt, and Matt hadn’t been able to figure out what that _meant_ all day while they were out shopping, but it had to be good things, right?  
  
They walked up Matt’s stairs - carefully, because Matt still needed to fix that bottom step, and he grunted softly when Foggy muttered about bringing his cousin over to take a look at it - and out onto the roof.  
  
“So, you heard me talking to Brett, huh? I mean, I’m not really surprised, but it still is taking some getting used to, I guess.”  
  
“You want to adopt Peter with me. That’s what you asked him about.” Saying it out loud was almost irrationally terrifying, putting into words _out loud_ made it applicable in court. Submitting to the court Exhibit A: one Franklin Nelson and Matthew Murdock’s oral conversation about adopting one Peter Parker.  
  
“Well, yeah. Someone has to look after him while you go back-flipping off into the night, and Karen doesn’t _know_ yet - which I _still_ say is a mistake, by the way - and you can’t really just leave a three-year-old unattended for hours on end.”  
  
Matt nodded. “You could just adopt him yourself.”  
  
“…I’m not even dignifying that with a response, Matthew. You heard what I said to Brett about _that_.”  
  
Matt swallowed hard. “This is… this is _big_ , Foggy, you know that, right? You’d have to move in, you’d-you’d be _stuck_ with me-”  
  
“Okay, you know what? You shut up with that kind of talk. I’m not _stuck_ doing _anything_ I don’t already want to do, you self-loathing little peacock.”  
  
Matt blinked. “I’m a what now?”  
  
“I swear I have never met anyone who is as vain and yet _hates_ themselves as much as you do. It’s an interesting dichotomy I’m _sure_ a psych student would love to pick apart for their thesis.”  
  
“Foggy-”  
  
“I said I’m sticking with you and I meant it, but I’d still appreciate it if you stopped trying to push me away at every opportunity like it’s some sort of test of that.”  
  
“I’m not-it’s not like that, Foggy, please-” Matt reached out, and Foggy caught Matt’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I’m not doing it on purpose, Foggy…”  
  
“I know. Just know that I’m gonna call you out on that shit when you start doing that so you can start recognizing behaviour patterns.”  
  
Matt squeezed Foggy’s hand as he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
“I just-” Foggy’s phone began to ring and he frowned, pulling out his phone and answering it. “Hey Brett, what’s up?”  
  
“I talked to Frankie Pigtails - I know what you two need to do to adopt Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* D: WHAT COULD BRETT HAVE POSSIBLY FOUND OUT?! Tune in next time~
> 
> ...honestly this chapter was supposed to be a thousand or so words shorter and then these assholes started in about the Howling Commandos(!) cartoon THAT TOTALLY EXISTED IN MCU CANON, GUYS, C'MON! (you can hear idiopathicsmile's unplugged cover of the totally-exists-shut-up theme song [here](http://idiopathicsmile.tumblr.com/post/85267863018/okay-so-who-do-i-have-to-bribe-for-fanart-of-the).) and then Matt had ~feelings~ about things and I just sort of gave up and wrote a thousand more words of these losers being losers and a family of choice because that shit is my JAM.
> 
> BTW, take note - not Season 2 Compliant. Because "Wow, What The Fuck", and "Karen Page, Foggy Nelson, and Claire Temple Deserve Better Than These Assholes". Try to keep any comments spoiler-free for those who haven't seen it yet, and know that if any event/characters from Season 2 do show up, the things that involve them/happen on the show will happen very differently in the fic, okay?
> 
> It should also start being fairly obvious that I am playing fast and loose with various canons and timelines for things - bear with me, I promise it will all make sense!
> 
> I love you guys, I hope you all continue to enjoy reading and leaving me such wonderful comments and kudos!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s what she told me, guys, I’m sorry.”
> 
> “Thanks, Brett, you’ve been a big help.”
> 
> “No problem, Nelson - I got a date out of it, so it’s not all bad.”
> 
> “ _Nice_ , let me know how that goes.”
> 
> “Not a chance. Night, you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all _so much_ for going along with my little April Fools Day joke yesterday - you were great sports about it! Anyway, here it is in all it's glory - chapter 6. Nearly 5k words in this chapter alone, when I usually try to keep chapters around 3k. This one would not END! I hope you all like it though, and that it was worth the little teaser I had up yesterday.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as Foggy moved to put Brett on speaker phone. “Really? Brett that’s great! You’re on speaker now, okay, and Matt’s right here.”  
  
“Hey Murdock.”  
  
“Sargent.”  
  
“Well, Brett? What did Frankie say?”  
  
“She said that because I’m vouching for you two idiots as parents, she’d need proof of joint cohabitation going back at least a year-”  
  
Matt’s stomach dropped out. _No… No no no no-_!  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” Foggy hissed, squeezing Matt’s hand. “We don’t have that.”  
  
“-Or a notarized copy of your marriage license, and she needs that by Friday or Peter has to go into the system and then he’s, to put it bluntly, up for grabs.”  
  
“Marriage license?” Matt asked, feeling faint and far away. “We don’t have one of those…”  
  
“That’s what she told me, guys, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Thanks, Brett, you’ve been a big help.”  
  
“No problem, Nelson - I got a date out of it, so it’s not all bad.”  
  
“ _Nice_ ,” Foggy said with a chuckle. “Let me know how that goes.”  
  
“Not a chance. Night, you two.”  
  
Brett hung up and Foggy fiddled with his phone. “Can I borrow your laptop?”  
  
“Wh-yes? Why?”  
  
“It’s Wednesday, Matt - early enough that if we apply for a license online now, we can be married by Thursday and have that copy of the license in Frankie’s hands before coffee Friday morning.”  
  
“Married?”  
  
“Not enough time for a church wedding though - sorry, Matt.”  
  
Matt’s head was spinning. “Married.”  
  
“…Matt?”  
  
“We were _just_ talking about adopting Peter and now married?”  
  
“This is what we need to do to adopt Peter, Matt. Are you in?”  
  
Married to Foggy. Married to Foggy, and raising Peter as their son.  
  
Except Foggy wasn’t in love with Matt - not the same way Matt was in love with Foggy.  
  
Was Matt enough of a selfish prick to trap Foggy in a marriage for the sake of one little boy who needed them?  
  
“…yeah. I’m in.”  
  
“All right, let’s do this!”  
  
“Wait-wait Foggy,” Matt reached out, catching Foggy by his arm. “We… we need to ask Peter, before we do anything else, okay?”  
  
Foggy laughed, bright and happy and Matt let the sound wash over him. “ _Obviously,_ Matt. C’mon, let’s _go_.” He tugged Matt back into the apartment, helping him down the steps (”Watch out for the broken step-” “I _know_ , Foggy, I was _there_ when I _broke it_ -”) before hurrying over to Peter and Karen. “Okay. So. News.”  
  
“News?”  
  
Foggy knelt in front of Peter. “Okay, Peter? Matt and I have a really important question for you, okay?”  
  
Matt sat next to Peter and Karen, licking his lips nervously. “The only problem is, we don’t have a lot of time to talk it over. It’s a pretty big decision.”  
  
“He is looking between you two worriedly, Matt,” Karen said softly.  
  
“Peter… Matt and I would very much like to be your fathers,” Foggy said, taking Peter’s hands in his. “But what we want doesn’t really count for much if that’s not something you want, too. I know you haven’t really spent a lot of time with us, but… would you like that? If Matt and I became your Daddies?”  
  
Matt held his breath, fingers clamped tight on his knees, though Karen reached over and covered one of his hands with her own, squeezing tight.  
  
Peter was still and quiet for a long moment, seeming to all of Matt’s senses that he was genuinely considering what Foggy said.  
  
A heartbeat.  
  
Two.  
  
Three.  
  
A nod.  
  
“You want us to adopt you?”  
  
Another nod.  
  
Foggy scooped Peter up into his arms with a cheer, spinning him around before hugging him tight as Karen let out a muffled scream of joy, bouncing excitedly next to Matt on the couch.  
  
“OH MY GOD!”  
  
“We’re gonna be the best dads we can be for you, Pete!” Foggy said excitedly, even as his eyes brimmed with tears.  
  
Matt was frozen to the couch.  
  
Peter wanted them to be his fathers.  
  
Foggy was willing to marry Matt to make that happen.  
  
This was his family now.  
  
He wouldn’t be alone anymore.  
  
(Maybe he hadn’t been alone for a long time.)  
  
“Matt?”  
  
“Oh Matt-” Foggy tugged Matt up into a hug, sandwiching Peter between them. “Matt, it’s okay, buddy…”  
  
What the-oh, he was crying. Matt wrapped his arms around Peter and Foggy, and sniffled into Foggy’s hair. “Yeah. I know. I’m just… processing everything-”  
  
“It’s a lot!” Foggy said with a laugh. “But this is us, now, buddy. Team Avocado’s newest member.”  
  
“Oh! Well, if it’s a Team Avocado hug-” Karen bounced up off the couch and practically tackled Matt and Foggy with the force of her hug. “Team Avocado leveled up!”  
  
“Yup!” Foggy kissed Peter’s head. “Now that that’s settled, here’s the other news - in order to adopt Peter, Matt and I have to get married.”  
  
“Wait- _really_?”  
  
“Yeah - Brett talked to a friend of ours in CPS. She said that, with Brett vouching for us as parents, if we can get her a notarized copy of our marriage license by Friday we can adopt Peter without having to go through a lot of the same hoops other families do.”  
  
“But-Foggy, today is _Wednesday_!”  
  
“Right. But it’s early enough that if we apply for a license online _now_ , we can get married tomorrow morning and have a copy of it in her hands by coffee time Friday.”  
  
“Oh my God, this is so exciting! Everything is happening so fast but OH MY GOD!”  
  
Peter tucked his face into Matt’s chest as Foggy passed him into Matt’s arms to get Matt’s laptop. “Foggy-”  
  
“Okay, so I am gonna apply for the license and - sheeeeee-oooooot I need to call my parents. Mom will never forgive me if we got sneak married and adopted a baby without telling her while it’s happening.”  
  
“Do you think they’ll want to be there?”  
  
“Of _course_ they will, Matt, we’re getting _married_. They’ve been trying to figure out a way to make you a Nelson for _years_.” Foggy poked at Matt’s laptop. “Which brings up an important question: Names. Are you taking mine, am I taking yours? Hyphenating?”  
  
Matt swallowed hard. “If we change our names, we’ll have to get a new sign.”  
  
“…I don’t want a new sign. We can keep our names and Peter will hyphenate?”  
  
Peter Nelson-Murdock. It had a nice ring to it. “Yeah. Oh- Pete, do you want your name to change when we adopt you? Not your first name, obviously, but your middle and last name?” Peter tucked his face into Matt’s neck and nodded. “You’re sure?” Another nod.  
  
“If he changes his mind when he’s older, we can change it back.”  
  
Matt held Peter close, his heart pounding in his chest and he felt his chest constricting. “I need to go…”  
  
“Go?” Karen demanded. “ _Now_? We have so much to plan for, Matt! As self appointed Maid of Honor-slash-Best Lady, I can’t make plans for anything without yours _and_ Foggy’s inputs!”  
  
Matt swallowed hard again, trying to get some moisture past the lump in his throat. “I need to… to…”  
  
“Go skateboarding?” Foggy asked softly.  
  
“ _What_?!”  
  
“No! No. I, um. I think I need to see my priest, actually. I was thinking I’d bring Peter along, too…”  
  
“ _Oh!_ Yeah, sure! If you wait a sec, Karen and I can go with you…?”  
  
“No, it’s okay - you two stay here. I think Peter could use the quiet time too and this is all going to be… boisterous.”  
  
“Stuffy Catholic,” Foggy said teasingly.  
  
Matt snorted. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“That’s something else we need to talk about, by the way!”  
  
“When we get back, okay?”  
  
“Sure thing,” Foggy said, clicking away on Matt’s laptop.  
  
“Have a good walk!” Karen said, perching herself next to Foggy to peer at the screen.  
  
“Be safe, you two! Have fun communing with God, tell Him I say hey and all that.”  
  
Matt chuckled. “That’s not how it- you know what? Sure. I’ll tell God you say hey, Fog.”  
  
Peter waved to Karen and Foggy as Matt moved to the front door of his apartment and left, cane in one hand and holding onto Peter with the other.  
  
—  
  
“I see you brought a friend,” Father Lantom greeted him warmly as Matt walked into the church.  
  
“This is Peter. Peter, this is Father Lantom, he’s a very good friend of mine.”  
  
“Hello, Peter.”  
  
Peter tucked his face against Matt’s throat shyly.  
  
“Father… do you have time for a latte?”  
  
“Something to confess, Matthew?”  
  
“Less confession and more… I really could use some advice, right now.”  
  
“Advice usually doesn’t require lattes.”  
  
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”  
  
“…lattes it is.” Father Lantom got to his feet, and Matt followed him into his chambers off the main chapel. “What’s all this about, Matthew?” Father Lantom asked as he moved around the room, setting up the coffee machine and… also a kettle of hot water?  
  
“Peter.”  
  
“What about Peter?”  
  
Matt took a deep breath, and told Father Lantom about the events of the last night and that morning (had it really only been less than twenty four hours? It felt like a lifetime…), about finding Peter and talking with Foggy and taking care of Peter with Foggy and everything that he had heard in the police station and later what Brett had found out from Francesca Pignelli.  
  
“So, in order to adopt this young man, you have to marry your best friend?”  
  
“Uh huh. And he knows about… you know. My extracurriculars.”  
  
“I see. And this is a problem?”  
  
Matt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ordering his thoughts. “I’m trapping him in a sham marriage because I want to adopt Peter and he’s too kind and generous to let me do it all on my own.”  
  
“It’s not a _sham_ , Matthew. People get married for all sorts of reasons, not just love. For a long time, marriage wasn’t even _about_ love, it was about a pooling of resources.”  
  
“His parents are probably going to be there, Father. His mother and his father, who have been _so kind_ to me since he and I have been friends which has been… a while, now.”  
  
Father Lantom set down a cup in front of Peter. “Here you go, little one, some sweet tea for you while the adults have something else - don’t worry, Matthew, it’s all decaf.”  
  
Peter pressed back against Matt.  
  
“It’s okay, Peter, you can drink it. Do you need help?” Peter shook his head against Matt’s chest. “If you don’t want it at all, that’s okay too, Peter.”  
  
“…it’s fascinating that he does that.”  
  
“He started doing it after I told him I was blind.”  
  
“Clever boy.” He set a cup of coffee in front of Matt. “This situation with your friend, do you think his parents will somehow have the wrong idea?”  
  
Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.”  
  
Father Lantom shifted in his seat, his rosary clicking softly at his side. “Well, let’s talk through it.”  
  
Matt traced the rim of his mug with one finger as his other hand moved to help Peter support his cup.“…I guess… I thought if I ever did get married that it would be here. In my dad’s church. And it would be for love, not… not trying to game the system.”  
  
“Matthew, would you like me to stand for you when you get married tomorrow?”  
  
Matt froze, about to take a sip of his latte. “…it’s a courthouse wedding, Father.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. Your friend’s parents are going to be there, aren’t they? Do you want me to stand for you?”  
  
Matt set his mug down and swallowed hard, his mouth and throat dry. “…yes. Even if you can’t do the ceremony, I would like it if you were there, please.”  
  
“Then I will be there. Do you know what time?”  
  
“In the morning, when the city clerk’s office on Worth Street opens - I think that’s around eight, eight-thirty in the morning? We can… come by the church to pick you up when we’re leaving?”  
  
“Certainly. I’d like to meet the fine young man you’re going to marry and raise a child with.”  
  
Matt sipped his latte, and listened as Peter carefully sipped from his own cup, his grip on it much steadier than before. “I still feel guilty, Father. For doing this to Foggy.”  
  
“Marriage is a two-way street, Matthew. You didn’t _demand_ that he marry you, did you? He offered this freely, and you accepted.”  
  
“But what if he meets someone he actually _wants_ to marry?”  
  
Father Lantom chuckled softly. “Something tells me he already has, Matthew.”  
  
Matt scowled at Father Lantom. “That’s not funny, Father.”  
  
Father Lantom sipped his latte. “Matthew, the key to a good relationship - _any_ kind of relationship - is communication. _Talk_ to him about what you’re both expecting from this arrangement, what your needs are, what your wants are, what you expect the division of labor to be. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell him how you feel about him?”  
  
Matt froze. “I’m sorry?”  
  
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”  
  
“I-um, I think you’ve got the wrong idea-”  
  
“Do I?” Father Lantom’s tone was arch and sharp as he set his cup down with a sharp clack.  
  
Matt huffed out a sigh. “Even if I did feel that way about Foggy - which I am not admitting to - he doesn’t feel that way about me. Romantic feelings are the _last_ thing he and I should be talking about right now, we’re already on shaky ground after that fight we had-”  
  
“The one where he found out about your vigilante hobby?”  
  
“And he found me mostly dead on my apartment floor in the mask, yeah.”  
  
“Not the most delicate way to tell someone about your hobbies, no.”  
  
“He wasn’t supposed to know at all! It-it was supposed to be separate! It had to be separate, so I could keep him safe!”  
  
“…Matthew. Did you ever stop and think that maybe him knowing will help keep _you_ safe?”  
  
Matt hugged Peter tighter to him, and Peter reached up to pat Matt on the cheek. “Hm? Pete, what’s up?” Matt loosened his grip on Peter, just in case he was hurting him. Peter wriggled around in Matt’s grip and hugged him, and Matt chuckled, hugging the toddler back carefully. “Thank you, Peter, I needed that.”  
  
Father Lantom chuckled softly. “He seems like a very sweet little boy, given what he’s gone through.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, he’s been great.” Matt drained his cup. “I should get back - we have a lot to figure out.”  
  
“Think about what I’ve said, Matthew. Talk to your partner, tell him how you feel.”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“But what if he feels the same, Matthew?”  
  
Matt clenched his jaw. “He _doesn’t_.”  
  
“He tell you that?”  
  
“I’d _know,_ ” Matt said, his voice sharp before he flinched. “Sorry.”  
  
“Just think about what I said, Matthew. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”  
  
“Yeah. Thank you, Father. Good night.”  
  
“Good night, Matthew. Good night, Peter, it was lovely to meet you.”  
  
Peter nodded and waved, but he didn’t say anything as Matt lifted him up into his arms and walked out.  
  
—  
  
“-Ma. _Ma_. _Mother, will you listen to me_?” Foggy was yelling into the phone as Matt made his way up the steps to his apartment. “Mom, this is happening the way it’s happening because there is a little boy who needs us, Mom. Matt and I are going to adopt him, and raise him and in order to that without having to fight a bunch of other families for him, Matt and I have to get married. …Yes I _know_ you want to throw one of your children a giant wedding ceremony and spend truly ridiculous amounts of money on useless nonsense and a dress you’ll never wear again-yes, I am making fun of you, Mom. I know you love me, I love you too, this is not a choice I am making to somehow hurt you deliberately, Ma.”  
  
Matt eased into the apartment as he listened to Anna Nelson shout on the other end of the line. “Matt?” Karen said softly, poking her head around the corner. “Hey, how was church?”  
  
“It was-it was good. Peter met Father Lantom, had some tea while we had lattes.”  
  
“You have lattes with your priest?”  
  
“Seal of confession applies even over lattes, he says.”  
  
Karen tucked her hair behind her ears. “Huh. If the idea of going to church for actual religious advice didn’t make me want to run screaming in the other direction, I’d almost think confession would do me a world of good.”  
  
Matt set Peter down on his feet with a huff of laughter. “Yeah you, ah, mentioned you weren’t the religious type.”  
  
“Call it a hold over from my misspent youth at church camp.”  
  
“You went to church camp?”  
  
“I did say misspent youth, did I not?” Karen chuckled and linked her arm with Matt’s. “Still, not the point. Father Lantom is a good guy, I’m glad he helped you out.”  
  
“He-” Matt swallowed. “He offered to stand for me at the wedding, since he couldn’t perform the ceremony himself, and since Foggy’s parents are coming. I assume they’re coming-is he talking to them now?”  
  
“Talking implies there’s a conversation going on-”  
  
“No, do _not_ put Dad on the phone- _MOM!_ ” Foggy yelled into the phone before flopping back onto the couch with a groan, and the sudden outburst had Peter scrambling behind Matt and Karen’s legs with a whimper.  
  
“-and mostly it’s been yelling,” Karen finished, squeezing Matt’s arm and reaching a hand down to bury her fingers in Peter’s hair.  
  
Matt flinched. “…are they mad?”  
  
“I can’t really tell. There’s been a lot of going in circles and yelling about proper weddings and Foggy is trying to explain but I think his mom is stuck on not getting to plan her only son’s wedding?”  
  
“Anna always did throw quite the celebration bash - I don’t even _remember_ half of the party she threw for us when Foggy and I graduated Columbia.”  
  
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Karen laughed.  
  
“Mom. _Mom_.” Foggy let his head drop back on the couch. “Mom, can you please…just. Stop. Mom. Please? The yelling scared Peter - yeah, he and Matt just walked in.”  
  
Karen scooped up Peter from behind them and carried him into the living room, even as he hid his face under her hair, Matt following half a step behind her. “Any luck, Foggy?”  
  
Foggy shook his head. “No, I’m not putting Matt on the phone so you can yell at him, I am putting an end to this conversation with this: Matt and I are getting married tomorrow morning at the Worth Street city clerk’s office. Are you, or are you not, going to be there to witness your only son get married?”  
  
Matt sat down next to Foggy and laced their fingers together as silence stretched over the other end of the line. “Put it on speaker, Foggy?”  
  
“-ow could you even think for one moment that your father and I aren’t going to be there for you and Matt, Franklin?” She asked, her voice tinny and hurt through the cell phone speaker as Foggy put the call on speaker phone. “That was never in doubt-!”  
  
“I dunno, Mom, with the way you’ve been carrying on like the world is ending because I’m marrying Matt-”  
  
“Oh, baby, _no-_ ”  
  
“Franklin, son, it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re getting married to Matthew. We love Matthew, you know that. _He_ knows that-”  
  
“At least he had better!” Anna muttered, grumpy and vaguely threatening in a way Matt had discovered only a Nelson could be about their affections.  
  
“It’s just that it’s happening _tomorrow_. We have no time to tell everyone, to send out invites, to set up a venue for the celebration,” Frank Nelson rumbled over the line - clearly he and Anna had their end of the call on speaker phone as well and were sitting together, probably on their couch just like Matt and Foggy were sitting.  
  
“If I can interrupt?” Matt said quietly. “I know that you want all those things for us, but we are operating on a time limit, unfortunately. So we have to forgo a lot of things we might want - having the ceremony at my church, for example - for the sake of speed.”  
  
“Besides, given everything that’s happened to Peter, I think a full on Nelson Family Extravaganza might be a little too much for him to handle right now. He’s functionally mute, Mom. The only person who can hear him when he talks is Matt, and even then it’s only at close range. He’d get lost at a Nelson party.”  
  
Anna huffed out a heavy sigh. “All right. _All right_. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. _But!_ You two are letting us take care of the celebration breakfast!”  
  
“Um.”  
  
“And I’ll take care of spreading the news to the rest of the family, Frankie. God only knows what your Aunt Martha would do if she found out through _Facebook,_ ” Anna snorted.  
  
Matt rubbed his fingers against his thigh. “Um. In the spirit of full disclosure, my priest is going to be there.”  
  
“Is he?” Foggy turned to face Matt. “He knows it’s a courthouse wedding, right?”  
  
“I told him that your parents were going to be there and he asked if I wanted him to stand for me.”  
  
“Oh _Matthew_ -” Anna said, her voice tight. “You know we’d stand for you too, sweetheart!”  
  
“I know, but… you’re Foggy’s parents, and Karen and Peter are going to be there for both of us, so…”  
  
“No, no, this is good, you should have someone there for just you, if that makes sense? It’s not that we’re not there for you, Matthew, I never want you to think that-”  
  
“No, no, Anna, I get it. Thank you. Thank you both _so much…_ ”  
  
“Nonsense, Matt, you’ve always been family. A little piece of paper has nothing to do with that,” Frank grumbled. “But. Well. I’m looking forward to meeting my future grandson. Do you two have rings?”  
  
“Not yet, no. That’s something that’s gonna have to wait,” Foggy said with a regretful sigh.  
  
“Mm _hmm_ ,” Anna said thoughtfully.  
  
“Mom, don’t you _dare_ -”  
  
“What’s that Frankie? I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up! I have to go and start calling people - We’ll see you tomorrow, baby! Love you, boys!”  
  
“ _Mother-!_ ” The line disconnected and Foggy sighed, dropping his phone to the couch. “She is _impossible_ sometimes.”  
  
Karen chuckled weakly. “She’s certainly a force of nature, to be sure.”  
  
“That’s my mom, all right. Hurricane Anna.”  
  
“She just wants what’s best for you, Foggy,” Matt said softly.  
  
“No, she wants to invite every single Nelson alive to my wedding to show off how well I’m doing: look at my son getting married to a beautiful trophy husband and having a baby and with his own law firm! A _law firm._ Her little boy, Matt!”  
  
Matt frowned as Karen snickered. “…I’m a trophy husband?”  
  
“Yep. Sorry, Matty, but that’s how it is. I make the big bucks, you sit around looking pretty for the judge and jury.”  
  
Matt shook his head, chuckling. “If you insist.”  
  
Karen pressed a soft kiss to Peter’s temple and sat him down in Foggy’s lap. “Okay you three, I need to get going and make sure I have a proper outfit to wear to a courthouse wedding.” She kissed Matt and Foggy’s cheeks in turn. “This is so exciting, you guys!”  
  
“See you, Karen.”  
  
“Later, Karebear!”  
  
Karen froze, twisted awkwardly in the middle of picking up her purse. “… _Karebear_?”  
  
“I get Fogbert, you get Karebear.”  
  
“I’ll agree to that, Counselor,” Karen said, primly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, guys. G’night!”  
  
Karen walked out as Peter yawned against Foggy’s throat, and Matt sat in silence, listening to Peter drop off to sleep against Foggy’s shoulder and the soft ‘click-click-click’ of Karen’s heels on the steps as she hurried down.  
  
“…what a day, huh?” Foggy sighed, rubbing Peter’s back gently. “We’re getting married tomorrow, Matty.”  
  
“We were always a little married, Foggy.” That was the joke, wasn’t it. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson, best friends and practically married and wasn’t it a shame that Matt is so in love with Foggy and Foggy has no idea.  
  
The thing was that _everyone_ loved Foggy. Foggy was so easy to love, and loved so freely himself, it wasn’t hard for Matt to have been drawn by that warmth, that love. Like a cat to a sunbeam. A mangy, scraggly, half-feral stray cat.  
  
Father Lantom was wrong, at least about this. Foggy loved Matt - Matt never doubted that, not since Foggy came _back_ \- but he wasn’t _in_ love with Matt. There was a fundamental difference between the two things, what appeared like a mere simple shift in language embodied a huge leap in emotional connection between people.  
  
_God_ , Matt was such a selfish asshole.  
  
“Mm. Maybe, but this is still more important than a simple civil union, Matt.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
Foggy rested his head on Matt’s shoulder. “It’s a life. One tiny, innocent life being given a second chance with a family who loves him. And yeah, there’s a lot of paperwork that needs to go into making that happen, but you know what? It’s worth it. This, with you and Peter? This is worth it.”  
  
Was it? Foggy could do so much better than Matt, could marry someone he _actually_ was in love with, maybe even have a child of his own with them, one that had Foggy’s smile and big heart.  
  
“…Yeah.”  
  
“Please don’t go out tonight,” Foggy whispered. “Not tonight, not before the wedding.”  
  
There was a devil under his skin, pushing at the seems to be let out, to spill blood, to seek _justice_.  
  
There was a tiny little boy in his best friend-slash-fiance’s lap, soft and warm and traumatized.  
  
There was a woman three blocks away fighting with her boyfriend. He was going to hit her if she kept mouthing off to him, why did she always have to mouth off to him, he was the man of the god damned house, Linda, why couldn’t she just fucking _give him the respect he goddamn deserves_ -  
  
Peter sighed in his sleep, snuggling closer to Foggy and fisting his hand in his shirt.  
  
Foggy swallowed hard. “Matt?”  
  
There was a break in, two blocks behind his apartment. Jewelery store. The team doing it were just a couple of kids, and they were scared.  
  
Foggy was warm at his side, though he was tense, his heart beating faster than it should be. Waiting on Matt’s answer.  
  
So much was waiting on Matt’s answer.  
  
“Yeah. I’ll stay in tonight. It would be hard to explain if I got married tomorrow with bruises on my face, given the givens.”  
  
Foggy let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Yeah. …yeah. C’mon. Let’s get ready for bed. I’ll put Peter to bed - we have to get out early tomorrow so I can swing back home and, you know, dress for a wedding.”  
  
“…do you want to go now? Sleep in your own bed? I can look after Peter.”  
  
“Nah, I’ll just leave in the morning and meet you at clerk’s office.”  
  
Matt took a deep breath. “Sounds good. Staying out here tonight?”  
  
“Nah. Mind sharing again?”  
  
“Nah.”  
  
Foggy chuckled. “Go on. I’ll get Peter in bed. I don’t wanna wake him up to make him change his clothes.”  
  
“So leave him dressed, it’ll be fine.” Matt got to his feet, bending down to press a soft kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Good night, Peter. Sleep well.”  
  
Matt padded into the bedroom as Foggy got Peter into his bed, getting undressed as his mind raced in a thousand different directions at once. They were doing this. They were really going to do this - get married, adopt Peter, be a _family_ on paper, in the eyes of the law.  
  
What the hell was he _thinking_ doing this to Foggy? Wasn’t it bad enough he had Foggy lying for him now anyway, with the Daredevil stuff? Now he was keeping Foggy from a life that he deserved, with a happy marriage that he would actually want, that wouldn’t involve lying to the people he cared about about his husband’s injuries.  
  
(He was always holding Foggy back, wasn’t he? Always and without fail bringing Foggy down into the shit, God, what was he _doing_ -)  
  
“Matt? You okay?”  
  
“Yeah, fine.” _Lie_. “Just… thinking.”  
  
Foggy sighed as he stripped out of his tie. “There’s a lot to think about, a lot to talk about, a _lot_ of things to work out.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But not tonight, okay? And not tomorrow - tomorrow is for celebration and family and good food. Hopefully good food.”  
  
“Your mom will find a good place, I’m sure.”  
  
They finished getting undressed and climbed into bed, laying down back to back.  
  
“Hey Matt?”  
  
“Yeah, Fog?”  
  
“You’re the one I want to do this with, you know that, right?”  
  
“…yeah.”  
  
A beat.  
  
“Hey Matt?”  
  
“Yeah, Foggy?”  
  
“I’m smiling.”  
  
Matt let out a soft huff of laughter. “Me too, Foggy. Me too.”  
  
“Good night, Matt.”  
  
“Good night, Foggy.”  
  
It was a long time before Matt fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record's sake - On April 1st 2016, I remarked that this would be the last chapter of Dadvocados, and then only posted the first 600 or so words of this chapter. The chapter you see now is chapter 6 in its entirety, and is obviously not the last chapter of the story.
> 
> Enjoy, everyone! Happy reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Brett… not that I want to sound rude, but what-?”
> 
> “Am I doing here? Foggy’s Mom called my mom who called me and told me if I didn’t show up to represent the family she’d make corn bread and make me watch her eat it all herself. Now, Murdock, you’ve never had my mom’s corn bread, and for that I am very sad for your life, but a threat like that is something that I am pretty sure violates the Geneva Convention.”
> 
> “But… we’re not at war?”
> 
> “If I missed you and Foggy getting married, we would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to returnsandreturns as I had hoped to have it finished by her birthday - it's a couple of days late, but ah well. Happy birthday, my dear!
> 
> Shout out to torrential for making sure this chapter didn't end up being a pile of hot garbage.

Matt woke up to his face buried in Foggy’s hair, Foggy’s head pillowed on Matt’s arm while Matt’s other arm was wrapped around Foggy’s middle (he had _laced their fingers together_ in his _sleep_ , Jesus _Christ_ , Murdock, get a _hold_ of yourself) as they spooned. There was the sound of soft sniffling coming from the doorway of his (their???) bedroom, which was probably what had woke him in the first place.  
  
“…Peter?” Matt asked, voice scratchy and rough from sleep. “That you, bud?”  
  
“Uh-uh huh.”  
  
“Is everything okay?”  
  
“Nuh uh.”  
  
Matt frowned, lifting his face away from the soft tangle of Foggy’s hair and sniffing the air, filing scents away (normal apartment smell, normal _Foggy_ smell, normal normal normal…). It didn’t smell like Peter had had an accident in his bed, which left one thing. “Did you have a nightmare?”  
  
A tiny, muffled sob as Peter nodded. “ _Uh huh_.”  
  
Matt patted the bed gently as he tried to untangle himself from Foggy without waking him. “Okay, climb on up, bud.”  
  
Peter’s fast climb up into the bed was anything but delicate and careful, tiny hands and pointed knees digging into Matt and Foggy’s legs as Peter scrambled between them.  
  
“Mmm, wha-? Matt? What’s going on?”  
  
“Peter had a nightmare,” Matt said softly, scooping Peter up to rest on his chest as Foggy rolled over and wrapped an arm around the both of them.  
  
“Aww, Pete. You’re okay now, buddy. You’re awake and with us and we would _never_ let anything or anyone hurt you,” he murmured sleepily, rubbing Peter’s back. “We’re gonna protect you from now on, okay? That’s what parents do.”  
  
Peter nodded, sniffling, even as fat, hot tears rolled down his cheeks to drip onto Matt’s bare chest.  
  
“Do you wanna tell us what the nightmare was about? Sometimes, at least for me, talking about my nightmares helped me work out what was real and what was just my brain being a meanie to me. They do that sometimes, you know? Brains are weird like that,” Foggy continued, pillowing his cheek against Matt’s shoulder sleepily so he could be closer to Peter. Peter shook his head. “You don’t wanna talk about it? That’s okay too - when you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here to listen, Peter.”  
  
Peter hiccuped, and another tear rolled down his cheek, and Matt flinched when it landed on his chest and rolled off his ribs. “Oh _Peter_ …” Matt murmured. “You’re okay. You’re okay now, we’re here and we love you _so much_ …”  
  
Foggy yawned against Matt’s shoulder as he continued to rub Peter’s back, Peter’s crying slowing down to the occasional sniffle. “Think you can get back to sleep? You can stay right here with us.”  
  
Peter nodded, sniffling as he shifted himself from resting on Matt’s chest to slipping somewhat in between Matt and Foggy, Peter’s back pressed to Foggy’s side as his limbs sprawled over Matt’s chest the same way Foggy’s were.  
  
“Everyone comfy?” Matt murmured with a chuckle.  
  
“Mmm,” Foggy hummed sleepily. “G’night guys.”  
  
“G’night,” Matt whispered.  
  
Peter had already fallen asleep again.  
  
—-  
  
Foggy’s cell phone chimed a tinny tune, to the echoing, agonized groans of both Matt and Foggy himself. “Ugh _why_ \- oh. Right. Wedding. _Married_.”  
  
“Would it keep you in bed if I said I don’t care what you wear to our wedding?” Matt grumbled, tugging Foggy closer to him as Peter, _somehow_ , sprawled out across Matt’s back.  
  
Foggy snorted rudely and reached back to pat Matt’s hip mock-soothingly. “ _I_ care, Matty. Also, I need to shower. And change clothes.”  
  
Matt sighed heavily and reluctantly let go of Foggy, reaching behind him to steady Peter as he rolled over. “ _Fine_. I guess you have a point.”  
  
“I usually do,” Foggy said dryly. He sat up and stretched with a groan before he leaned over and kissed Peter’s head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Pete, okay? Be good for Matt until I can see you again.” Peter clung to Foggy with a whimper, flinging his arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “Aww, yeah, I’ll miss you too, pumpkin, but I’ll see you soon, I _promise_. Matt and I are getting married today so we can adopt you! And after that, you’re gonna see me _all the time_.”  
  
Matt chuckled, and if anyone asked, he was going to claim he was still half asleep when he reached up and ran a hand through Foggy’s hair and leaned up to press a kiss to Foggy’s forehead. “Mm. Catch you later?”  
  
Foggy chuckled again, and kissed Matt’s forehead. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, too, Matt. Be good.” Matt sighed as Foggy pulled away and got dressed. “Matt, you need me to watch Peter while you shower?”  
  
“Yeah, that is smart - I’ll be fast.”  
  
Foggy chuckled, scooping Peter up as Matt eased out of bed and headed into the bathroom.  
  
He could get used to mornings like this.  
  
Matt took the fastest shower he could, listening to Foggy murmur to Peter softly while getting Peter dressed. “We don’t exactly have a little baby suit for you to wear, Pete, but that’s okay - we’re an informal bunch when we don’t have to work. I mean, my mom will make faces about it, but whatever, it’s fine. I’m your parent and I say it’s okay.” Foggy got Peter into fresh underwear and pants as Matt scrubbed his hair with shampoo. “But she’s your grandmother, you know, and she does everything she does out of love. She’s not, like, malicious or anything. But if she says something to you that hurts you - if _anyone_ says or does something to hurt you, and Matt and I aren’t there? You let us know, and we’ll fix it. Okay? Pinky promise, you’ll let us know if someone hurts you?” At Peter’s nod, Foggy hooked their pinkies together and shook their hands. “A pinky promise is a sacred oath, Peter, not one lightly broken.” Foggy scooped the fully dressed Peter up into his arms and peppered kisses all over his face, causing Peter to giggle quietly.  
  
Shampoo dripped down Matt’s face and into his eyes, and he muffled a curse. Matt rinsed his eyes with a sigh, and finished up his shower quickly, wrapping his towel around his hips. “Hey, Foggy?” he called, stepping out of the bathroom into the drier - but no cooler - air of the rest of the apartment.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are my eyes red? I got soap in them…”  
  
Foggy set Peter down on the floor and padded over to Matt, tipping his head left and right. “A little, but you wear sunglasses anyway, it should be fine.”  
  
Matt couldn’t help it: he leaned forward into Foggy’s space, resting his forehead against Foggy’s. “…Foggy, I…”  
  
“It’s okay, Matt,” Foggy murmured. “You don’t need to say anything.”  
  
“No, Foggy… before-before we’re in front of people and your family and in public- _thank you, Foggy_. You’re sacrificing so much for Peter and I and-”  
  
“Matt.” Foggy tugged him into a tight hug, tucking his face into Matt’s throat. “I want to do this, okay? Listen to my heart, am I lying?”  
  
Matt hugged Foggy tighter. “No.”  
  
“There’s stuff to work out, but not today, remember?” Matt nodded, breathing in Foggy’s scent. “Today is for happy times with my parents and your priest and Peter and Karen. So whatever you need to say, if it’s about what I’m sacrificing or whatever-”  
  
“I-there’s so much going on and it’s _not enough_ , but-” Matt whispered into Foggy’s neck, feeling his eyes prickle with tears and utterly helpless to stop it.  
  
“We can have this conversation _later_ , when you are not mostly naked,” Foggy said fondly.  
  
Matt nodded, reluctantly pulling away from Foggy. “If you insist.”  
  
“Emotional and heartfelt conversations require at _least_ boxers, Matt.”  
  
Matt shook his head and scrubbed at his face with one hand to hide the fact that tears had started to gather. He was going to have to accept the fact that he was definitely going to cry today at some point, and if he started now, he’d never be able to stop. “That makes sense.”  
  
“I gotta jet - I’ll meet you at the clerk’s office, okay? You’ll be fine with Peter on your own for a little bit?”  
  
“Yeah, Peter and I will be fine. I’m gonna get dressed and we’re gonna pick up Father Lantom, right, Peter?  
  
“Mmhm!” Peter hugged Matt’s legs.  
  
Foggy ruffled Peter’s hair. “Excellent. I’ll see you two in a bit, okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Later, Fog.”  
  
“Mm!” Peter nodded against Matt’s leg.  
  
Foggy waved and walked out of the apartment.  
  
“…you know something, Peter?” Matt said softly,  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“You’re going to have a great father in that man. I mean, I’ll do my best, but Foggy… Foggy is going to be a great Dad.”  
  
“…okay, Daddy.”  
  
Matt blinked, hand freezing in Peter’s hair. “…Peter?”  
  
“Mmhmm?”  
  
“If I’m Daddy, what’s Foggy?”  
  
“Papa.”  
  
“Oh,” Matt said, continuing to blink uselessly. “Okay then.”  
  
He was Daddy.  
  
 _Matt_.  
  
Was someone’s Daddy.  
  
 _Peter’s_ Daddy.  
  
And Foggy was Papa.  
  
 _Jesus Christ, what were they doing?  
  
_ “…I still need to put on pants,” Matt said, feeling disconnected but in a strangely good way.  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Matt took a deep breath. “Peter?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“You’ll tell me if I put my pants on backwards, right?”  
  
Peter giggled, tucking his face against Matt’s calf. “Uh huh.”  
  
Matt breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
He had a wedding to get ready for.  
  
—-  
  
Matt shifted nervously in front of the clerk’s office, Father Lantom at his side and Peter in his arms.  
  
“ _Breathe_ , Matthew,” Father Lantom said with a soft chuckle. “Everything is _fine_.”  
  
“We’re early,” Matt muttered, checking his watch again. “It’s…it’s only eight fifteen, the office doesn’t open until eight thirty.”  
  
“Hey!” Karen called, rushing over. “Hi, Father Lantom - it’s good to see you again! Hi Pete!” Karen kissed Peter’s temple with a loud ‘ _mwah!_ ’ and then she kissed Matt’s cheek. “Hey! You look utterly terrified.”  
  
“I am, admittedly, a little nervous, Karen.”  
  
Something in Karen’s arms rustled as she shifted. “You’ll be fine - here, I made these last night-” she pinned something to his suit lapel. “I know real flowers make you do the ‘too many smells’ face-”  
  
“The ‘too many smells face’?”  
  
“That’s what Foggy calls it! Anyway, I dredged up my sixth grade origami skills and made you _boutonnières_! I even made one for Peter to wear, too! May I pin this on you, Peter?” Peter nodded, and Karen very carefully pinned the paper flower to Peter’s shirt. “There. Don’t you look spiffy as heck?”  
  
Matt supported Peter with one arm as he reached up to carefully feel the flower pinned to his jacket. “You made this, Karen?”  
  
“Uh huh! I had some old fancy paper lying around, and so I made you guys _boutonnières_ and I made myself some fancy flowers to pin in my hair.”  
  
“They look stunning, Karen. You did a lovely job,” Father Lantom said, and Karen’s face heated up as she smiled at him. “Are those lilies?”  
  
“Yes!” Karen’s hand reached up to her hair carefully. “I made myself some lilies for my hair, Matt and Foggy have daisies, and Peter’s is a daffodil.”  
  
“You have a real talent for it.”  
  
Brett was coming up the street toward them, and - Matt tipped his head to the side - he was wearing a suit? “Yo, Murdock.”  
  
Karen turned and her heart rate sped up. Apparently Brett looked _good_ in said suit. “Oh! Sergeant, hi…”  
  
“Hey, Miss Page. Father. Hi, Peter… I don’t think we officially met.”  
  
Peter shook his head against Matt’s jaw.  
  
“Peter, this is Sergeant Brett Mahoney. He’s a friend of Papa and I.”  
  
Karen let out a muffled squeak as Peter waved.  
  
“Already with the parental designations, huh?” Brett asked, amused.  
  
“Peter decided on them already.” Matt cleared his throat. “Brett… not that I want to sound rude, but what-?”  
  
“Am I doing here? Foggy’s Mom-” Matt could hear the capital M clearly, as well as the obvious affection in Brett’s voice. “-called my mom who called me and told me if I didn’t show up to represent the family she’d make corn bread and make me watch her eat it all herself. Now, Murdock, you’ve never had my mom’s corn bread, and for that I am very sad for your life, but a threat like that is something that I am pretty sure violates the Geneva Convention.”  
  
“But… we’re not at war?”  
  
“If I missed you and Foggy getting married, we would be.” Brett rocked back on his heels. “That, and the way I figure it is that I’m seeing Francesca in a few hours - I can hand deliver your license to her and save you the overnight shipping cost.”  
  
Matt swallowed hard. “Oh… Brett, thank you so much…”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. Where’s Foggy, I thought he’d be here with you?”  
  
“He had to run home to shower and change…” Matt swallowed nervously. “Maybe he’s caught in traffic?”  
  
Just then, a cab pulled up to the curb. “-Yeah, good luck with your baby sister, Ahmed, that stuff’s rough,” Foggy was saying to the cab driver, as he opened the door.  
  
“Thank you, my friend. Many happy blessings to you on this day!” The cab driver called back.  
  
“Thanks!” Foggy jogged over and kissed Karen’s cheek and Peter’s head. “Hey! Hi, sorry I’m late - had to pick up the Judicial Waiver from Judge Milian. She says ‘ _mazel tov,_ ’ by the way, Matt, and that she will literally suck the ocular fluid from my eyeballs next time she sees me if I call her before seven am again, so there’s that.” Matt nodded, swallowing hard as Foggy peered at Peter’s chest. “What’s that, Pete? A button-thingy?”  
  
“ _Boutonnière,_ Foggy,” Karen said with a chuckle. “I made them last night since real flowers make Matt do the face. Here-” She moved to pin the _boutonnière_ to Foggy’s lapel, patting his chest when she finished. “There.”  
  
“Oh wow, Karen, these are awesome! Thank you!” He kissed her cheek again. “Hey Brett - what are you doing here?”  
  
“Your mom called my mom, and my mom threatened me into coming. Plus, I figure I’m seeing Frankie later today, I can spare you the overnight shipping charge on the license.”  
  
“I think I might just have to hug you for that, Brett, I’m sorry it’s come to this.”  
  
“Ugh, get it over with, Nelson,” Brett sighed heavily as he and Foggy hugged tightly, though Foggy was careful not to crush the paper flower pinned to his suit jacket.  
  
Matt swallowed again nervously. “Ah, Foggy… this is Father Lantom. Father Lantom, this is Foggy Nelson.”  
  
“Ah- Matt’s priest! Hey, nice to finally meet you!”  
  
“It’s nice to finally meet you, as well. Matthew speaks highly of you,” Father Lantom covered Foggy’s hand with his own as they shook hands.  
  
“Yeah, he speaks very highly of you as well. And your latte-making skills.”  
  
Father Lantom chuckled. “Perhaps you’ll join me for a cup one day, hm?”  
  
“I might just take you up on that,” Foggy said sincerely, and Matt felt warmth blooming in his chest in almost direct conflict with the nervous-chill of butterflies in his stomach.  
  
Another car pulled up to the curb and Anna Nelson climbed out as Frank Nelson paid. “Oh, Frank, there they are- _yoo hoo~! Franklin, Matthew!_ ” Anna caroled, hurrying over to them. “Oh Brett, I had no idea you’d be here! Look at you, you look so _handsome!_ ”  
  
“Hey, Auntie,” Brett said fondly, bending to kiss Anna’s cheek.  
  
“Hi Mom.”  
  
“Hi, baby.” Anna kissed Foggy’s cheek, then Matt’s. “Oh, Matt, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart!”  
  
“Thanks, Anna…” Matt shifted Peter in his arms. “Anna, Frank… this is Peter.”  
  
“Oh my goodness, aren’t you _darling_?” Anna cooed, and Peter tucked his face into Matt’s shoulder shyly. “Oh, goodness, you weren’t kidding about him being shy, Matthew. It’s okay, sweetheart. We have _plenty_ of time to get to know one another, and I am _so_ excited to be your grandmother…”  
  
Peter turned his head slightly to peek out at Anna and nod, and Frank reached out to rub Peter’s back. “Hello, Peter. I’m your Grandpa Frank.” Peter nodded again, clutching at Matt’s jacket.  
  
“You must be Matthew’s priest- it’s so wonderful of you to come stand for Matthew.”  
  
“It is an honor that he’s letting me.”  
  
“He can be fiercely independent sometimes,” Frank said, amused. “He’s a good kid, though. And this lovely young lady _must_ be Karen Page.”  
  
“That I am! It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Nelson, Mrs. Nelson,” Karen said, her beaming smile evident in her voice.  
  
“Oh, please, call us Frank and Anna,” Anna said warmly.  
  
“Ah-everyone? The doors are opening! Let’s get in there and get these two married,” Brett said.  
  
Matt took a deep, shaking breath. “Foggy?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“As I’ll ever be.”  
  
Karen stepped forward. “I can hold Peter for you, Matt.”  
  
Matt gave Peter a tight squeeze before he passed the toddler to her, and Foggy was there in an instant, taking his elbow. “…let’s do this then.”  
  
They hurried inside the building, and Matt felt dizzy, everything too loud and too intense even though the building was mostly empty this time of morning as they made their way over to the marriage offices. The clerk called their names and the entire group went up to the desk. “…Goodness, there’s a lot of you.”  
  
“Only the most important ones,” Foggy said with a grin.  
  
“Well, will the two people getting married please step forward?” The clerk asked, clearing his throat. Matt and Foggy stepped forward in unison. “Matthew Murdock and Franklin Nelson?”  
  
“That would be us, yes.”  
  
“All right then.” Another throat clearing. “Do you have the waiver?”  
  
“Right here-” Foggy handed it over to the clerk.  
  
Behind them, Frank leaned down close to Anna’s ear. “ _Mawwiage_ ,” he whispered solemnly. “ _Mawwiage is what bwings us togedah today._ ”  
  
“ _Frank_ ,” Anna hissed with a giggle. “Your _son_ is getting _married_ , be serious!”  
  
Matt snorted as Karen giggled and Foggy turned. “ _Seriously_ , Dad? The Princess Bride?”  
  
“…We don’t actually have a script we follow for these, you know,” The clerk said, trying to mask his laughter. “If that’s the ceremony you want, I’ve pretty much got that whole bit from the movie memorized.”  
  
Foggy laughed, delighted. “Oh wow, seriously? What do you say, Matt? Want that, or should we go the traditional route, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, all that jazz?”  
  
Matt turned to face Foggy, taking both of his hands in his. “If there’s no script, or anything we haven’t said to each other a thousand times before in a thousand different ways over the years-”  
  
“And it’s not like we’re super traditional anyway,” Foggy interjected, squeezing Matt’s hands. “Also, we don’t have rings-”  
  
“Oh-!” Anna gasped, digging through her purse. “I do, I do, I do-”  
  
Frank chuckled fondly. “Anna, hon, that’s _their_ line. You and I said that to each other already years ago, remember?”  
  
“ _Of course_ I remember, Frank-”  
  
“Mom, tell me you didn’t buy us rings,” Foggy said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.  
  
“They’re nothing _fancy_ , Frankie. Just… stand-ins, really. Until you get ones you want.”  
  
“ _Jesus_ , Ma- err, sorry, Father.”  
  
Father Lantom chuckled. “It’s all right, Franklin.”  
  
“Here, baby-” Anna rushed forward and pressed the two rings into Foggy’s hand. “Just use them for now - you can’t have a proper ceremony without rings!”  
  
“…Ma…”  
  
“Just _get on with it_ , boys, honestly,” Anna huffed, her impatience belied by her sniffle.  
  
Matt swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “What… what I guess I’m getting at here is… Foggy, will you have me?”  
  
Foggy sounded like he was fighting down a lump of his own. “Yeah, Matty. I will.”  
  
The clerk cleared his throat again. “If you would place the rings on each other’s fingers?”  
  
Foggy slipped the ring on Matt’s finger, and Matt could feel it was well-worn, could smell that both rings were real, solid gold.  
  
The ring fit perfectly.  
  
Foggy pressed the other ring into Matt’s hand, and Matt, with care that wasn’t exaggerated for anyone’s benefit but his own, placed it on Foggy’s finger.  
  
“Franklin Nelson, do you take Matthew Murdock to be your lawfully-wedded husband?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
Foggy’s heart was steady and even, ringing with truth in those two words.  
  
“Matthew Murdock, do you take Franklin Nelson to be your lawfully-wedded husband?”  
  
“I do.” _I love you, Foggy. More than anything in the world…  
  
_ “Then, by the power granted to me by the State of New York, I pronounce you married. You may now kiss.”  
  
Foggy pressed a soft kiss to Matt’s forehead and each of his cheeks, and Matt copied him in a daze. Then, as Karen cheered and bounced Peter on her hip, while Anna cried into her husband's shoulder and Father Lantom and Brett clapped, Matt hugged Foggy close, buried his face into his neck and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best readers ever and I love you all and I got one of the best comments on this fic the other day - like, I legit screamed in delight and then burst into tears because it was the nicest comment anyone has ever left on a fic of mine ever.
> 
> I know a lot of you were really excited for this part - I hope it lives up to what you guys were hoping for! I'm really proud of it
> 
> I had a few thoughts writing this chapter:
> 
> "If Peter were twenty years older, this would be a very, very different fic." AKA The Trials And Tribulations of Being A SpideyDevil Shipper As Well As A Matt/Foggy Shipper  
> -AND-  
> "*IGNORES SEASON 2 HARDER THAN EVER BEFORE*"  
> -AND-  
> "Matthew Murdock Continues To Have Emotionally Fraught Conversations With Foggy Nelson While Shirtless And I Am Okay WIth That."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You always did love bagels, Frankie.”
> 
> “Ma, _please._ ”
> 
> “Oh no, this is a wedding party and it is my _job_ as your mother to tell embarrassing stories about you as a baby.”
> 
> “Matt already knows the embarrassing stories, Ma.”
> 
> “Karen doesn’t, and neither does Father Lantom."
> 
> “I have to know _all_ the stories about Foggy as a baby! Next time, we’ll do baby pictures.”
> 
> “Oh, definitely, sweetheart!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I am SO SORRY this took so long everyone, but this chapter is very near and dear to my heart for a few reasons, but I'll get into those in the end notes. Enjoy~

Foggy rocked Matt back and forth. “Matty…”  
  
“Sorry,” Matt sniffled into Foggy’s shoulder. “This is a lot…”  
  
“I know, buddy. Platonic married is still married, after all,” Foggy murmured into his hair.  
  
Matt felt like someone punched him in the chest. Right. Of course. Mustn’t forget this was all platonic, no no, Heaven _forbid_ Matt think for a moment this was anything other than what it was.  
  
God, what had he just _done_?  
  
“Ah, sirs, I need you to sign this…”  
  
Matt pulled away from Foggy, rubbing at his eyes and cheeks. “Right.”  
  
“Oh - and we’re gonna need to get a copy of that notarized,” Brett said, smoothly. “For adoption purposes.”  
  
Thank God Brett remembered that part, or this whole farce would’ve been for nothing. “Oh, I can take care of that - I’m a registered notary as well, don’t you folks worry about a thing!” the clerk said cheerfully as Foggy guided Matt’s hand to where he needed to sign.  
  
“Here, Matt.”  
  
Matt nodded, signing his name. “…Foggy-”  
  
“Hm?” Foggy signed his name with a flourish. “What’s up?”  
  
_Well_. That was that, then. “…we… um. Witnesses?” Matt asked weakly, as though he hadn’t been about to offer Foggy a chance to back out again.  
  
“Since I have appointed Brett and myself as Best Man and Maid of Honor respectively, we’ll sign as witnesses. Unless you three wanna thumb wrestle us for it?” Karen asked behind herself with a grin.  
  
“You look like you would be far too mighty an opponent for these arthritic hands, Miss Page,” Father Lantom said, amused.  
  
Anna blew her nose with a loud honk and waved Karen off, sniffling as Frank held her close and kissed her temple. “Ah, Annie my love. Makes me remember when we were young, eh?” he murmured into her hair. “Whattaya say, gorgeous? Wanna run away with me, spend the rest of our lives together?”  
  
“ _Frank_ ,” Anna half laughed, half sobbed. “We’re _already married_ , you great goof.”  
  
“Lucky me,” he said, kissing her softly.  
  
“You’re the _worst_ , Frank Patrick Nelson, trying to steal your son’s thunder on his wedding day,” Anna told him between kisses.  
  
“Can’t let these young punks show me up.”  
  
Foggy laughed. “Dad, you did the same thing when Candy got married.”  
  
“Not true - I was much, _much_ drunker when your sister got married, Franklin.”  
  
Anna groaned. “ _Please_ do not talk about how you drunkenly proposed to me at our daughter’s wedding in front of a _priest_ , Frank.”  
  
“Or that time Dad had his appendix out and was so high on painkillers he kept forgetting that you two were married and said - Brett, you were there, what did Dad say?”  
  
“I believe he said ‘Wowee Zowee, how did I land a classy gal like _you_?’” Brett said, keeping his voice surprisingly even.  
  
“… _I did not say wowee zowee_.”  
  
“You did, Frank my love.” Anna kissed her husband’s cheek. “It’s okay, hon. You only had to ask me the one time when it actually counted.”  
  
“…Anna, I didn’t actually _get_ to ask you that first time,” Frank grumbled.  
  
“Oh, not this story again-” Brett laughed as the clerk handed Foggy the original marriage license, and Brett the notarized copy. “It was great to see you again, Auntie, Uncle Frank, but I gotta run.”  
  
“Oh, Brett, you’re not joining us for breakfast?” Anna asked, disappointed.  
  
“Can’t - gotta make sure this gets delivered so those two can adopt Peter.” Brett dropped a quick kiss to Anna’s cheek. “I’ll tell Mom you say hi.”  
  
“Of course, sweetheart, it was lovely seeing you again!”  
  
Brett gave Frank a half hug before nodding to Father Lantom. “It was nice to meet you, Father.” He turned to scrutinize Matt, Foggy, and Karen before he waved them off dismissively. “I’m sure I’ll see you three pains in the rear at some point in the future.”  
  
“You know you love us, buddy,” Foggy teased, and he and Brett fist bumped as Brett snorted.  
  
“Whatever keeps you warm at night, Nelson. Though I suppose you have Murdock for that now.”  
  
Matt clenched his jaw, teeth creaking before he felt a cool hand on his wrist, recognizing the thin, dry skin of Father Lantom’s hand. “Here, Matthew - your cane.”  
  
“Oh-” He had asked Father Lantom to hold it for him when he was holding Peter earlier, when they were waiting for the others outside. “Thanks.”  
  
“My pleasure, Matthew.”  
  
“Congrats, you two. Later, Pete,” Brett ran a hand over Peter’s hair fondly before he jogged off.  
  
Foggy blew his hair out of his eyes. “Okay. Here’s the question - wait. Firstly, _you_.” Foggy pointed at Karen. “Gimmie back my son.”  
  
“Never. Surrendering of the First Born to me was agreed upon when I got the copier to work,” Karen said primly, snuggling Peter.  
  
Anna gasped playfully. “Oh, Frankie, you _didn’t._ ”  
  
“I never signed a contract,” Foggy said.  
  
“Matt did.”  
  
Foggy gasped, turning to look at Matt. “ _You didn’t_.”  
  
“What can I say?” Matt squeezed Foggy’s arm. “I didn’t read it.”  
  
“Darn it, Matt, you sold our son to the Fae Queen!”  
  
“I’m a Fae Queen?” Karen asked, delighted.  
  
“Oh yes - trickster smile and flowers in your hair? Very much a Fae Queen.”  
  
“…aren’t there, like, a bunch of different ones?” Karen hummed in thought, resting her chin on Peter’s head.  
  
“There are six,” Father Lantom said with a chuckle. “And since lilies are a summer flower… that would make you Titania - The Queen Who Is Lady Of Light and Life, Queen of the Ever Green, Lady of Flowers.”  
  
“Ooh, I like that!” Karen turned to Foggy and Matt. “If I give back Peter, can I get that on my desk plaque?”  
  
“Deal,” Foggy said, and Karen carefully passed Peter into Foggy’s arms. “Excellent. _Now._ The real question is, Mom - because you insisted on us letting you pay for the celebration meal - what are we doing for breakfast?”  
  
“Well, it’s so early,” Anna said thoughtfully. “Really, the only places we can go are diners.”  
  
“There’s that diner over on 11th we could go to?” Karen offered, and Frank nodded.  
  
“Perfect - we’ll have to take separate cabs, though,” he grumbled. “That’ll be frustrating.”  
  
“Well, you and Anna can share one, Father Lantom and I can share one, and Matt, Foggy and Peter can share one?”  
  
“You are an excellent planner, Karen,” Anna said with a chuckle.  
  
Karen laughed. “C’mon, there is a tiny hungry belly that needs filling - and we should feed those two, I guess. It _is_ their wedding day.”  
  
“Then we’ll meet you at the diner!” Anna said, practically snuggled up against her husband’s side even though outside of the building, the August heat was promising to be stifling.  
  
“See you in a bit,” Frank said with a nod, leading Anna out of the building, lacing their fingers together even though his arm was around her shoulders.  
  
Karen turned to Father Lantom and held out her arm to him. “Shall we, Father?”  
  
“Of course, Karen.” He took her arm in his as they walked out after Anna and Frank.  
  
“How did you know all that stuff, by the way? About Titania?”  
  
“The Bible is not the only book I read, my dear. I happen to be a fan of _The Dresden Files_ ,” Father Lantom said, holding open the door for Karen as they walked out.  
  
Foggy chuckled, hefting Peter up a little higher in his arms. “Well, Pete, you ready for breakfast?” Peter nodded, patting Foggy’s flower carefully. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to be careful of that - Aunt Karen worked really hard on it!”  
  
Matt took a deep breath, breathing in the scents of Foggy and Peter and how they both also smelled like _him_ (like _home_ ) and let it out slowly.  
  
Today was for family. For having a good time with Foggy’s parents and Karen and Father Lantom. This was not the time for dark thoughts, this was not the time to dwell on just how badly Matt had just fucked over the rest of Foggy’s life.  
  
“Shall we get going, you two?” Matt asked, opening his cane.  
  
“Yeah, Matty, let’s get going,” Foggy said warmly, and held out his arm to Matt.  
  
Today was for family.  
  
Peter and Foggy were Matt’s family now.  
  
(Foggy had _always_ been Matt’s family.)  
  
Matt curled his hand around Foggy’s elbow, and they walked out of the clerk’s office, and into their new life.  
  
—  
  
They made it to the tiny diner over on 11th, Foggy having spent the whole cab ride over chatting easily with the driver as Matt tucked Peter close to him and ran his fingers through Peter’s soft hair.  
  
They piled out of the cab as Foggy paid (”You have a good day, man, and congrats to you and your wife on the new baby!” “Thank you - good luck to you and your husband with yours!”), and Foggy lead Matt and Peter over to the table that Foggy’s parents had been seated at.  
  
“-so I’m standing there _covered_ in soot, we’re both soaked the skin and Anna just says ‘yes, by the way.’ And I was like ‘huh?’ and Anna digs into my pants pocket and pulls out the ring box - which _somehow_ made it out unscathed - opens it and puts on the ring ‘Yes, I’ll marry you. It’s what you’ve been trying to ask me all night, isn’t it?’” Frank finished saying as Foggy and Matt approached to sit. “To _this day_ I am not allowed to cook or be near fire.”  
  
Anna patted Frank’s arm comfortingly. “Stick to things you’re good at, sweetie. Like laundry. And cleaning.”  
  
“Did you guys order yet?” Foggy asked, pulling out a chair for Matt as he set their license down on the table.  
  
“Oh, Foggy, here - lemme stick that in my purse, okay?” Karen reached over to grab and put away their marriage license and then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And no, not yet, we just have water and coffee - your dad was just telling us about when he tried to propose to your mom.”  
  
“At least he _tried_ to propose to her,” Foggy laughed.  
  
“You didn’t even propose to me at all, Foggy, I don’t think you have any room to judge, here,” Matt said primly, adjusting Peter in his lap.  
  
Anna sipped her coffee with a snort. “You’re joking.”  
  
“Not at all - we found out from Brett that in order to adopt Peter, Francesca Pignelli-”  
  
“Remember her, Ma? Dad? Frankie Pigtails, she was in my class in school growing up.”  
  
Anna hummed. “Oh yeah, of course I remember her. Adorable girl, great smile. Nasty left hook.”  
  
“Yup! She works for CPS, and Brett said that _she_ said that if she had a notarized copy of our marriage license by Friday, we could adopt Peter no problem since he was vouching for us.”  
  
“It was either the license or proof of joint residency and shared bills going back at least a year - which we don’t have. So we hang up with Brett, and Foggy asks if he can use my laptop, and I’m like ‘…okay? Why?’ and he says ‘It’s early enough that if we register now we can be married tomorrow’.”  
  
“ _Franklin,_ ” Anna laughed. “Oh my goodness, could you _be_ any more of a Nelson?”  
  
“We Nelsons are the _spirit_ of romance, Annie, you know that! I mean, look at my parents.”  
  
“Your parents, Frank?” Father Lantom asked, sipping his coffee as Foggy laughed.  
  
“Oh man, yeah - tell them about Pappy and Grandma Enid, Dad.”  
  
“They were, eh, twenty? At the time, and they were on the train with their friends who were getting courthouse married, and my mother and father were going as witnesses. And their friends are excited and leaning on each other and being, as my mother says, ‘disgustingly schmoopy,’ and my dad turns to my mom and says ‘How’s ‘bout it, E? Wanna get hitched?’ And my mom, ever the practical one, looks him up and down and says ‘You got any money?’”  
  
Karen snorted into her coffee. “She _did not_.”  
  
“Well, you had to pay for your marriage license in cash back then, you know,” Frank said, amused. “So they got married, but they forgot to call their families and tell them. So when their families found out about it, which they did when my mother went home and said she was moving in with my father - which just wasn’t _done_ , back then, you understand, kids, you got married _first_ and _then_ you moved in together - they lost their collective minds and made them get married _again_ with a _proper_ wedding. Which - you need to understand something, Father Lantom, my father was a bootlegger and my mother is a menace in all the best possible ways. So _of course_ she would sneak out her window at night to go see him and then sneak back home in the morning with no one the wiser every night until their ‘proper church wedding.’ What either family didn’t know was that Mom was three weeks pregnant when she got married the second time.”  
  
“Everyone just thought his older sister was just born early,” Anna snickered, lacing her fingers with her husband’s. “Goodness, we didn’t even find out about it until Enid told us after we announced I was pregnant with Foggy.”  
  
“And then she said she only told us that because everyone who would give hoot about it was dead and therefore couldn’t bother her about it.”  
  
“Only she didn’t say it nearly as politely, Father.”  
  
Foggy snickered as he opened the menu. “Matt, want me to get you the braille menu?”  
  
“You can order for me, Foggy, you know what I like here,” Matt said, frowning faintly. “Is there a chair with a booster seat for Peter?”  
  
“Oh, hang on a second, I’ll get us one-” Karen lifted her hand to get the attention of a passing wait staff member.  
  
As they ordered food (and more coffee, and mimosas for the adults with the exception of Father Lantom, and a small glass of orange juice for Peter to go along with the booster seat), Anna chuckled. “You always did love bagels, Frankie.”  
  
“Ma, _please_.”  
  
“Oh no, this is a wedding party and it is my _job_ as your mother to tell embarrassing stories about you as a baby.”  
  
“Matt already _knows_ the embarrassing stories, Ma.”  
  
“Karen doesn’t, and neither does Father Lantom,” Anna said primly.  
  
“I have to know _all_ the stories about Foggy as a baby,” Karen said, delighted. “Next time, we’ll do baby pictures.”  
  
“Oh, definitely, sweetheart!”  
  
Foggy sighed as he took Peter from Matt to get him into the booster seat. “If you must, then carry on, Mom. Clearly I’m outnumbered on this front - I know better than to expect backup from Dad about this.”  
  
“Darn tootin’,” Frank agreed into his coffee.  
  
“Now, Frank and I were in our first apartment, and Frankie was about two years old and still in diapers. We lived on the first floor, and down the block from our building was a bakery. Every Sunday, they had a sale on bagels, so in the morning Frankie and I would walk down and get bagels for breakfast. One morning I wake up and I go to check on Frankie - and he’s _gone_. I start frantically searching the apartment and screaming at Frank ‘Wake up, wake up, the baby’s missing!’ and then I happen to glance out the window and there, coming down the block, is Frankie. With a bag of bagels and a saggy diaper.”  
  
Karen clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her bark of laughter. “Are you serious?!”  
  
“Oh yes. Apparently he had woken up early, climbed out of his crib and managed to get his shoes on by himself and let himself out of the apartment, because he knew it was Sunday and Sunday was bagel day. And apparently the baker recognized him from when he would go in with Anna and gave him the bagels they usually bought - we went back in later to pay and he laughed and waved us off, said it was the best part of his morning and that they were on the house this time.”  
  
“I had Frank put on a chain lock on the door after that. You took _years_ off my life with that one, Franklin.”  
  
“Sorry, Mom, but the call of bagels waits for no parent,” Foggy chuckled, sheepish. “I don’t even _remember_ doing that, but hey. Bagels.”  
  
“…you know, for being a law firm specifically designed to suck out people’s souls in exchange for a nice paycheck, Landman and Zack had some truly _terrible_ bagels,” Matt said thoughtfully. “You’d think with that the blood money they were raking in, they could’ve afforded better-quality baked goods.”  
  
“They really could’ve, but hey.”  
  
Father Lantom sipped his coffee. “It sounds like there’s a story there.”  
  
“Aww, Matt - you didn’t tell your priest about how we left a life of soul-crushing corporate law behind to be Defenders of Hell’s Kitchen?”  
  
Matt chuckled. “It hasn’t come up yet, no.”  
  
“Well, Matt and I graduated top of our class at Columbia - not being Prideful or anything, Father, merely a statement of fact - and we got internships at the formerly very prestigious corporate law firm of Landman and Zack. The _day_ we find out we’re going to get formal positions at the firm, I found Matt reading Thurgood Marshall at his desk - which is _never_ a good sign, really, because Thurgood Marshall is his go-to for when he needs to make a Big Decision in his life. Anyway, he was all ‘Oh Foggy, run away with me and we’ll practice beautiful defense law in Hell’s Kitchen together!’ and I was all ‘Oh Matt, of _course_ I’ll run away with you!’ and then I stole all the bagels from the break room because we were going to be _so broke_ for a while and they could spring for it.”  
  
Matt snorted into his coffee. “That is _not_ how that conversation went, Foggy.”  
  
“That is _exactly_ how that conversation went, Matt,” Foggy grinned at him.  
  
Father Lantom chuckled. “I probably shouldn’t condone the stealing of food, but it sounds like you two made the right choice.”  
  
“We certainly like to think so. And if we never formed Nelson and Murdock, we never would’ve met Karen, which would be a travesty because she’s the only one who can get the copier to work.”  
  
“I don’t want to think about where I’d be if you two didn’t form Nelson and Murdock,” Karen murmured into her coffee.  
  
Matt didn’t want to think of it, either. Without Nelson and Murdock, Karen would be dead. He sipped his coffee, one hand reaching out to smooth over Peter’s hair.

  
“Well, we’re all glad you’re here, Karen, you are utterly delightful and have a standing invitation to all Nelson Family Holidays,” Anna declared reaching over to pat Karen’s hand, her voice warm and fond.  
  
_“Thank you so much for allowing me to spend Thanksgiving with your family, Mrs. Nelson,” Matt said, clutching tightly at his cane in an effort not to nervously fiddle with the strap. “It’s very kind of you.”  
  
__Anna waved her hand dismissively, sending a stronger scent of the herbs and spices she had been cooking with and the lavender hand cream she used that morning after her shower toward Matt’s nose. “Oh piffle, Matthew - Frankie talks about you so much you’re practically family already!”  
  
__“Wow, thanks for throwing me under the bus like that and making me sound super creepy, Ma,” Foggy grumbled, flushing hot and embarrassed next to Matt.  
  
__Matt already knew how much Foggy talked to his family about him, and wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the swooping feeling in his stomach when Foggy had asked his parents if it was okay that he bring Matt for the holiday, or the fluttery feeling in his chest when Foggy tossed his hoodie at Matt with a “Here, wear this Matt, it’s warmer than yours is and it’s getting cold out,” or…  
  
__Or how he felt when Foggy did just about anything, lately, really.  
  
__“Oh_ whatever _, Frankie. All I’m saying is that you’re welcome in our home anytime, Matthew, you don’t even have to ask.”  
  
__The absolute truth behind her words rang like a church bell in her heartbeat, and Matt had no idea what his face was doing that made Foggy’s Mom pull him into a tight hug right then with a soft “Oh_ sweetheart _,” but he tucked his face into her shoulder when he hugged her back and whispered “Thank you.”  
  
_ Matt blinked at the gentle touch of Foggy’s fingers on his wrist. “Huh?” He turned to face Foggy.  
  
“You okay there? You kinda checked out for a second.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… remembering that first year we were roommates and you invited me to Thanksgiving.”  
  
Foggy chuckled. “Yeah… man, you were _so lost_ once everyone started showing up. I think you ended up surrounded by four different babies and had no idea who they belonged to.”  
  
Matt laughed, turning his hand palm up and shifting Foggy’s grip on his wrist so that his fingers rested on Matt’s pulse. “I’m still not sure _why_ your cousins thought that handing the blind guy their babies was a good idea, but I thought I managed to keep an eye on them okay.” Matt grinned wider at Foggy’s snort.  
  
There was a click and Foggy turned to look at his mother, his hand pulling away from Matt’s and leaving Matt’s wrist feeling strangely cold. “Ma, what the hey?”  
  
“Sorry, sorry - you three just looked so sweet! Definitely posting that one to Facebook.”  
  
“Oh, send it to me?” Karen asked, whipping her phone out of her purse. “I need a new wallpaper for my phone.”  
  
“Um…?”  
  
“Oh Matt, this really is a great picture - you and Foggy are grinning at each other and Peter is looking up at you two and it’s so sweet- definitely going on the company Facebook as well as your mom’s.”  
  
“…we have a company Facebook?” Matt asked Foggy, feeling a little lost.  
  
“We’re going to.” Karen took a determined sip of her coffee. “I am going to make us one tonight - Nelson and Murdock needs a social media presence since we can’t rely entirely on word of mouth to get our cases now that we have an adorable tiny baby to think of.”  
  
“That, and you’re literally going to start being paid to spend your time on Facebook and probably Twitter?”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
By the time the food had gotten to the table, they had gone from discussing Daredevil (“I just think it’s a complicated issue, Anna, I’m not saying I’m gonna be the next guy to go out there in a mask and punch criminals.” “I’m sure you could get a mask from Eddie if you asked him-” “ _I am not asking Eddie for a mask to fight crime, Anna, because I am not going to be fighting crime_.” “Who is Eddie and why would he give you a mask?” “We’ll tell you some other time, Karen dear.”), to the Avengers (“Father, a blessing for the Avengers?” “A blessing for the Avengers, hm? God Bless and Keep the Avengers… _far away from us_.” “Amen!”), to musical theater (“I can’t believe you’re a _Fiddler On The Roof_ fan, Father Lantom.” “Is it really so hard to believe? I saw it on Broadway when Zero Mostel played Tevye.” “Padre, you have no idea the depth of my envy right now.” “ _Fiddler_ was Frankie’s first musical.”), and somehow had moved on to religion as the waiter started setting down plates of food in front of them.  
  
“I’m just wondering, Father, if you feel that religion or spirituality is important when it comes to raising a child?” Anna asked, fussing with her napkin. “I mean, I always wondered - Frank and I were never particularly religious in raising our kids, and we left it up to them as far as spirituality was concerned…”  
  
“Franklin and I had _one_ conversation about religion when he was eight and he and I sat down and he asked me, very grim and serious ‘Daddy, what does Jesus Christ mean?’ And out of the corner of my eye, I see Candace - Franklin’s younger sister - out of bed and in the hall, but I had already started speaking to Frankie, so what I ended up saying was ‘Well, Frankie, Jesus Christ means _Candace get back into bed!_ ’ Which became something of a joke in the family when they were older.”  
  
Foggy snickered. “Poor Candy - she just had to pee, Dad.”  
  
“And when Frankie was five he was scared of thunderstorms and we tried to placate him with ‘oh, the thunder is just God and his Angels bowling, Frankie’ and he wailed out ‘I don’t even believe in God!’ and Frank and I just looked at each other like ‘when did that happen…?’ but we didn’t push it… Maybe we should’ve?”  
  
Father Lantom ate a bite of French toast (made with challah bread because that is the only way to make it when you live in New York you fucking _heathen_ \- Foggy had an entire rant about it when Matt tried to make them French toast with plain white bread when they shared an apartment over the summer between L2 and L3, and taught Matt the ways of Challah French Toast. Matt had never eaten it any other way since) and swallowed a sip of coffee. “Well, it depends on your child, like with all things. Some children benefit from the structure and ritual of religion; they find it helps them focus or it gives them stability when they feel they are floundering trying to figure out who they are and where they fit in the world. Other children just find it all really, _really_ boring.” A chuckle went up around the table. “I have found, however, that a lot of priests and religious leaders don’t try to _engage_ the children of their flocks with their sermons. Children are not too young to understand God, but no one’s faith should be just because someone told them to, either.”  
  
“ _Exactly_ ,” Foggy said with a nod. “Matt and I need to talk about how we’re gonna bring up Peter - I mean, holidays are one thing, but Mass every Sunday? I understand it’s important to Matt, which, you know, is why we need to talk about it, but I don’t want to force something on Peter he’s not comfortable with. Kid’s got enough on his plate as it is.”  
  
Matt reached out to stroke his hand over Peter’s hair. “Something to figure out later.”  
  
It wasn’t until they were nearing the end of the meal when Frank set down his mimosa glass (his third glass) with a decisive _clack_. “I… would like to say something, if I may?”  
  
“Dad?”  
  
“I wanted… I’m not one for speeches, really, but you’re my son. My only son. And every moment of every day since the day you were born, you have been my pride and joy. And today, Franklin, seeing you become a husband and a father - I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now. You’re gonna be a great parent, Frankie, I feel it in my gut.”  
  
“That might be the mimosas, Dad,” Foggy said, but his voice was a little wobbly.  
  
“Don’t sass me when I’m complimenting you, boy,” Frank grumbled at his son before turning his attention to Matt. “Matthew, while I can’t say I’ve watched you grow up the same way I’ve watched Franklin grow up, I’m still going to say I’ve watched you grow up all the same. From the first time Frankie brought you home for Thanksgiving all those years ago, we’ve adored you and your presence in our lives. You’re a good man, caring and kind and it has been an _honor_ and a _privilege_ to have been there for you when you graduated, when you started Nelson and Murdock, and it is an honor and a privilege to be here for you now on your wedding day. We’ve always considered you family, Matt, we’ve never needed a piece of paper for that, but I will say it’s nice to have one anyway. We love you, kiddo, and you’re gonna be a great parent, too.”  
  
“I-Frank, sir… I don’t- _Thank you_. That… that means a lot, coming from you.” Matt sniffled, rubbing at his nose.  
  
“We love you, baby. And… and I think, that if Jack were still alive, he’d be just as proud of you as we are,” Anna said, lacing her fingers with Frank’s.  
  
_Shit_ , he was crying again. “Thank you.” Peter patted Matt’s hand, fingers sticky with jam from his toast, and Matt took a slow breath. “I - thank you all for being here today, for Foggy and me. I know this was last minute, and you’ve all been so wonderful - especially you, Karen - you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty since we hired you.”  
  
“Think of me when you’re picking Godparents,” Karen said serenely, in a way only an impressive amount of carbs and mimosas could make a person.  
  
“Matt? Karen and Brett?”  
  
The moment the two names left Foggy’s mouth, Matt had no idea who else he would’ve picked as Peter’s Godparents. There were no other people who made as perfect amount of sense as Brett and Karen did. “Of course.”  
  
“ _Sweet_.” Karen drained her mimosa, then her coffee, and polished off the last of her pancakes with a pleased noise. “Good wedding party, guys. A-plus, would do again.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
As Foggy’s parents flagged down their waiter to pay (“Father, put away your wallet, we’re not making a Goddamned _priest_ pay for his own meal at our son’s wedding, Jesus Christ-” and Matt thought it was very kind of Father Lantom not to crack up when Anna seemed to realize what she had just said and buried her face in her hands with a groan, even though it was clear that he wanted to), Foggy took Peter into the bathroom to clean up the stickiness (how did one little boy get so sticky? How did jam get in his hair? _How?_ Matt had been sitting there _the whole time_ and he _still_ had no idea) and Karen leaned close to Matt, not drunk but almost borderline tipsy. “Are we opening the office late today?”  
  
“We’ll talk to Foggy about what to do. On the one hand, we should open the office, but on the other, it’s our wedding day and it’s not like we’re taking a honeymoon.”  
  
Karen nodded. “…you and Foggy really want me to be Peter’s Godmother?”  
  
“Well, you’re already a Fae queen,” Matt teased. “Why not be his Godmother, too?”  
  
Karen went from sitting next to Anna to being in Matt’s arms and hugging him tightly in less than a second, smelling faintly of the orange pekoe tea that she’d drunk before heading to the clerk’s office that morning, and more strongly of orange juice and champagne and coffee, and the full breakfast of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon she had just finished eating. “I will make sure he is the fairest, kindest, most devastating princess in all the land of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt.”  
  
“Devastating?” Matt asked into Karen’s shoulder.  
  
“He will have _all_ of the gentlemen callers. All of them. Lady callers, too.”  
  
“I think you’ve had too many mimosas.”  
  
Karen huffed into Matt’s hair. “Lies, no such thing. Besides, those were, like, one percent champagne _at most_.”  
  
Matt chuckled, patting Karen’s back fondly. “If you say so, Karen.”  
  
“I _do_.”  
  
Foggy returned and smacked a loud, fond kiss to Karen’s temple. “Are you sloppy drunk?”  
  
“Not sloppy drunk. I am Peter’s Faerie Godmother and I am having emotions about it,” Karen mumbled, tilting her head so she could look at Foggy.  
  
“Apparently Peter’s going to be the fairest princess in all of Hell’s Kitchen with _all_ the gentlemen and lady callers,” Matt said, tipping his head back to grin at Foggy and Peter.  
  
Foggy laughed. “Sweet, just make sure they’re rich so he can afford to go to college, Karebear.”  
  
“Done.” Karen shifted her hug from Matt to Foggy and Peter, nuzzling her face into Peter’s still slightly damp hair. “Matt was right when he said I’d understand after meeting you - I already love you _so much,_ Peter, and I’m going to be the best Godmother ever, I promise.”  
  
Peter reached out to hug her back, and there was more clicking noises from Anna’s phone as she took a ton of pictures.  
  
“Okay. So. I know we didn’t actually go into work yesterday, but today is my wedding day and I want to spend it with people I love. So we’re going back to Matt’s - who is coming with?”  
  
“As much as we want to, Frankie - Peter looks a bit people’d out,” Frank said. “So your Ma and I are gonna head back home, post the pictures we took and make more phone calls to family members about you being married now. Let us know what’s going on with where you’re staying now, Frankie - are you and Matt moving in together in Matt’s apartment since it’s bigger than yours, or are you going to find a different apartment so Peter can have his own room?”  
  
“Um…??”  
  
“It’s something we need to discuss,” Matt said. “Right now we’re staying at my apartment.”  
  
“Well, let us know and we’ll help you move.”  
  
“Thanks, Ma,” Foggy moved as Karen took Peter from his arms to hug his parents. “I appreciate it.”  
  
“I do have to get to the church,” Father Lantom said. “I told the nuns I’d be in late today.”  
  
Foggy tucked his hair behind his ears. “Understandable - thank you for taking the time to come out with us, Father. It means a lot, to all of us, not just Matt.”  
  
“It was my pleasure. I look forward to having that latte with you, Franklin.”  
  
“Yeah, same.”  
  
“Matthew - I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”  
  
Matt laughed, ducking his head. “Yeah, probably. See you soon, Father Lantom.”  
  
Foggy’s parents hugged Matt and Karen and Peter as Father Lantom bid goodbye to Karen and Peter as and headed out of the diner, trying to deflect Anna and Frank from paying for his cab back to the church.  
  
“…looks like it’s the four of us then,” Karen said, resting her cheek on Peter’s hair.  
  
“I can think of worse company,” Foggy grinned at Karen as he tucked Matt’s hand into his elbow. “…not bad for a wedding reception, huh?”  
  
“Nope, but I did just remember a couple of things I have to do real quick before I meet you guys at Matt’s, okay? Here, Pete, go with Daddy-” Karen handed Peter to Matt, who let out a startled noise as he hugged Peter tightly to him. “Foggy, gimmie your apartment keys.” Foggy handed Karen his keys with a confused noise as she practically snatched them from his hand. “I’ll meet you guys at Matt’s!”  
  
She headed out of the diner, leaving Matt and Foggy standing around with Peter. “…well that was weird. Cab, or should we walk it?”  
  
“ _Cab_ ,” Matt said as Peter nodded against his jaw. “Why did she need your keys?”  
  
“No idea and I probably shouldn’t have given them to her, but whatever. I trust her.”  
  
Peter nodded again, and Foggy lead Matt out of the diner and into the August sun.  
  
—  
  
They got back to Matt’s apartment just as Foggy’s phone chimed repeatedly with texts from his sister (“‘Ma sent me pictures from your wedding! SO CUTE!’ and she then sent me a series of poop emojis because we got married when she couldn’t come because my sister is the height of maturity.”) and Matt had settled Peter down for a nap by the time Karen showed up at Matt’s apartment with a suitcase full of Foggy’s clothing (“Because you’re staying here for now anyway, you need clothing here!” “I am a little disturbed you went through my underwear drawer, Karen.” “Meh. Someone had to.”) and a bakery box with a six cupcakes from the bakery on 7th that both Matt and Foggy adored (“Because it’s not a wedding without cake, and you guys need to stash two in the freezer for your one year anniversary.” “I can tell you right now those are not lasting to our one year anniversary - they are lasting right up until late night drunken munchies and no later.” “ _Foggy_.” “What? I know myself.”), though they agreed to wait to eat them until Peter woke up from his nap. The three of them spent the time Peter napped looking into schooling and education programs for Peter.  
  
Foggy grumbled as he jabbed at Matt’s laptop keyboard. “We missed the second round cutoff date to get him into Pre-K for this year, but next year he’ll be able to go into kindergarten since he’ll be turning five.”  
  
“Are you sure there’s no one we can talk to about getting him into Pre-K even though it’s so late?”  
  
“Pre-K starts in two weeks, Matt. Even if there was someone we could talk to, we’d need stuff like adoption record and his vaccination records and such - we can’t get it all in time.”  
  
“Damn it.”  
  
“Oooh, look at this list of ‘Mommy/Daddy and Me’ classes we can sign him up for, though!” Karen cooed. “There’s one for ASL - that seems useful given the givens.”  
  
“ASL?” Foggy asked around a cup of coffee Karen had brought from the bakery as well.  
  
“American Sign Language. If he’s not talking-”  
  
“He _can_ talk, Karen,” Matt snapped, then instantly regretted it.  
  
“Yeah, but Matt - he’s not always gonna have you around to translate. And even if he starts talking in three months, sign language is a good skill to have just in general,” Karen snapped back. “He needs to be able to communicate with the rest of the world.”  
  
“I know - you’re right, but. Karen, I can’t exactly go with him to that.”  
  
“So I’ll go with him - Karen’s right, Peter should learn ASL. Once he starts talking more normally - and we have to hope that he _will_ , Matt - you can teach him Spanish, and I’ll teach him Punjabi, and our baby will have a plethora of languages to communicate in. In the meantime, we can figure out a different class that you can take him to.”  
  
“There’re music classes available,” Karen said, sounding hopeful.  
  
“Also expensive,” Foggy muttered with a wince. “We might not be able to do any of these classes at all unless we completely cut out day-care and just have Peter come into the office with us.”  
  
“Well, we’re gonna have a little extra money once you move in here, right? We’ll figure something out.”  
  
It was at that point Peter woke up (and without a single bad dream - Matt wanted to cheer), and the four of them had cupcakes and watched cartoons on Netflix with Foggy providing the descriptions for Matt and explaining what he’s doing when Peter twisted and tilted his head in a questioning manner (“Like how when you press against Daddy so he can feel you shaking or nodding your head, I am describing what’s happening on screen because he can’t see it. I do it when we’re walking too, sometimes, did you notice? Because Daddy can’t see what’s going on, he needs the extra help gathering information about everything that he can’t get from listening or even smelling.” “Lucky for me, I have _excellent_ hearing and a very good nose,” Matt had chimed in, and it was the closest he had come to explaining his senses to Karen, which is why he distracted everyone with asking “So Prince Wednesday is talking to Daniel Tiger right now?” and getting Foggy back on track describing _Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood_ ). As the day turned to night, Karen yawned and stretched.  
  
“Okay, I should get home - I’ll leave your wedding license on the kitchen island, okay?” Karen kissed Peter’s temple and Matt and Foggy’s cheeks as she got up to do just that, and Foggy got to his feet as well to walk her out. “This was a nice day - also, A-plus show, would watch tipsy without a baby,” Karen said to him at the door, and Foggy snickered before hugging her.  
  
“Yeah. Thanks so much for everything, Karen.”  
  
“What else are friends for? I’ll keep looking into day-cares and classes and stuff - we’ll figure out something beyond just having Peter be in the office with us. And if he’s going to be in the office with us, we’ll set up things for him to do there and it’ll be _fine_.”  
  
“Yeah, sure. G’night, Karebear.”  
  
“G’night, Fogbert.”  
  
Karen left and Peter snuggled closer to Matt’s side, yawning sleepily and close to dropping off again. It was late, and Matt’s fingers itched to go under the stairs to get at the suit, nerves jangling under his skin and desperate to get out into the heat of the city, away from the warm scent of Foggy before Matt did something _utterly stupid_ , and suddenly Foggy was next to him and sitting down heavily. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey, Fog.”  
  
“What a _day_ , huh?” Foggy nudged Matt’s shoulder playfully. “But a good one.”  
  
“Yeah. It was good. Your parents are hilarious.”  
  
Foggy snorted and leaned up against Matt’s side and hugged Matt one-armed. “I’m gonna get Peter ready for bed.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Matt would’ve given _anything_ to just turn his head and kiss Foggy, press him back into the couch cushions and make Foggy call out his name. But Peter was _right there_ , and Foggy didn’t want Matt like that.  
  
Matt was the worst sort of trash.  
  
Matt got to his feet and headed over to the closet under the steps once he could hear Peter drop into deep sleep  
  
“…you’re going out tonight.” It wasn’t a question.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it this time too, huh?”  
  
Matt clenched his jaw. “Foggy, every night I don’t go out, someone else in Hell’s Kitchen gets hurt. Some other kid gets put in Peter’s position, or someone loses a partner or a friend. You knew what I was when you married me.”  
  
Foggy’s own jaw clenched. “I know.”  
  
Matt carefully pulled out the suit, coming up short when he felt his wedding ring catch just barely on the material.  
  
He wouldn’t be able to wear it out.  
  
“…Foggy, do me a favor?”  
  
“I’m not going out there with you, I like my face unpunched.”  
  
Matt’s chest went tight. No. No, Foggy could not go out there with Matt, Foggy needed to be _safe_ and needed to look after Peter. “No, nothing like that. I can’t wear my ring out - it’ll get damaged. Look after it for me?”  
  
Foggy swallowed hard. “I. Yeah, I can do that.”  
  
Matt worked the ring off carefully, ignoring Foggy’s flinch as he reached out and took Foggy’s hand in his and pressed the ring into his palm. “Thank you. I don’t - I need it to not be damaged. I need it to stay safe.”  
  
“I know, Matt.”  
  
Matt began to strip down to put on the suit, keeping a careful ear on Peter (and one on Foggy, though what Matt was expecting to hear from his husband’s heartbeat he wasn’t sure), and finally clasped the helmet to his head. “…well?”  
  
“The horns look stupid.”  
  
“Stop harshing on my aesthetic, Foggy,” Matt said, and grinned when he got the soft huff of laughter he was looking for.  
  
“Get going, Matt. You’ve got heroing to do.” Matt nodded, heading up the stairs two at a time. “Matt?”  
  
He paused at the top of the steps, about to head out the door. “Yeah?”  
  
“Be careful. I don’t want Peter to lose a father before the ink on his adoption papers even dries.”  
  
Matt nodded. “I’ll be careful, Foggy.”  
  
Matt was out the door before he heard Foggy whisper “No you won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Like I said, there are a few reasons this chapter took so long. Part of it is because I am am master of making my life more difficult than it has to be (because in addition to that baby blanket, I decided that new baby of the friend of the family needed a dress and booties to go with it, and hurt my arm trying to speed crochet. [The dress and booties look fly as fuck, tho. Worth it).](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-ZMsPL-kNdZYnlXRC1Hby1GR2c/view?usp=sharing) The other can be summed up with this snippet of conversation I had with FullDaysDrive:
> 
> Amaronith: I am so frustrated with Chapter 8 of Dadvocados  
> FullDaysDrive: oh no :  
> FullDaysDrive: :-(  
> Amaronith: I just  
> Amaronith: canNOT get this scene to END  
> Amaronith: _JESUS CHRIST STOP TALKING_  
>  FullDaysDrive: *nod*  
> Amaronith: THIS CHAPTER IS NEARLY 6K WORDS  
> FullDaysDrive: whoaaaa o__o  
> FullDaysDrive: yeah that's, yeah  
> Amaronith: that is nearly _twice_ as long as the average chapter  
>  FullDaysDrive: o___o  
> Amaronith: yeah  
> FullDaysDrive: dang you are not kidding  
> Amaronith: THEY WON'T SHUT UP  
> Amaronith: JUST SHUT UP AND GO HOME YOU FUCKS  
> Amaronith: _GOD_  
>  Amaronith: this is _just like when my family gets together_  
>  Amaronith: NO ONE SHUTS UP AND GOES HOME UNTIL IT GETS AWKWARD  
> Amaronith: ((i am pretty sure, however, this conversation is going in the end notes of the chapter))  
> FullDaysDrive: ahahaha
> 
> However, I do love this chapter, because several of the little family stories that get told around the table in the diner are actually taken right from my own family: The wedding story of Foggy's Grandparents was actually how my great-grandparents got married - minus the bits about Grandma being pregnant at the second wedding and Grandpa being a smuggler, of course (if either of those things were true, I haven't been told about it); The Bagel Story was my grandfather as a toddler (right down to getting the bagels for free because it was hilarious - Grandpa was a cute baby); and The "What Does Jesus Christ Mean" conversation is much more current - it took place between my father and my oldest sister before I was born. I wanted there to be family stories to be told, because that's what happens at family gatherings, I've found, and I couldn't think of enough to fill out the chapter with (at the time - I had no idea it would end up being so long!!), so I just. Filled in with bits of my own family history. I hope no one minds too much.
> 
> And for the record? This chapter ended up being over 7300 words.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happens when you find someone you want to be with for real? Actually Married and not Platonic Married.”
> 
> “What about you? What happens when you find someone?”
> 
> “Wow, way to dodge the question, Matty.”
> 
> “Foggy, I don’t exactly have the time to go out and meet potential romantic partners between work, being Daredevil, and _my son's well being._ ”
> 
> “You seriously mean to tell me none of the ladies you rescue are all 'oooh, Mister Daredevil, _please_ allow me to _thank you_ for saving my life with blow jobs’?”
> 
> “...have you been watching bad Avengers parody porn again? Foggy, we _talked_ about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah ha ha I LIVE! I have moved into my new place, and everything is great except where it's not but whatever, not the point. The point is this fic is NOT DEAD and I actually have some really awesome treats in the pipeline for... well, mostly me, but you'll all benefit from it too! But soon. Sooooooooon.
> 
> Everyone go thank [torrential](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential) for being the absolute best copy-editor in the whole world and without her this fic would be trash.

Matt groaned as he pushed open the rooftop access door to his apartment. It was late, later than he usually stayed out, and Matt silently eased himself down the stairs so as not to wake Peter, who was passed out on Foggy’s chest.  
  
Foggy, who was still awake.  
  
“Have you been up this whole time?” Matt eased his helmet off, opening the closet under the stairs to pull out the trunk as quietly as he could.  
  
“I slept, but… I didn’t go to bed. Do you _always_ stay out this late?”  
  
Matt winced. “I… wouldn’t have if I knew you were gonna stay up to wait for me.”  
  
“Wanted to be on point if for some reason you didn’t go see Claire and came home with your guts hanging out,” Foggy grumbled. “…also, I don’t have your hearing - I wanted to be out here if Peter had a nightmare, because I didn’t want to have to explain where his _other_ father was when he tried to climb into bed with us.”  
  
Matt sighed, stripping out of the suit and down to his boxers. He put the suit away carefully, covering it up with his father’s things and sticking the trunk back into the cabinet under the stairs as quietly as he could without waking Peter. “I’m not going to apologize for being Daredevil, Foggy.”  
  
“I’m not asking you to. I just think Peter’s too young to _know_ about you being Daredevil - that’s something I want to wait to tell him. Hopefully _before_ it kills you.”  
  
Matt settled down next to Foggy on the couch with a soft grunt. “Foggy-”  
  
“If you tell me this isn’t going to kill you, I swear to _God_ I will spend the next month and a half waking you up with show tunes. _Bad_ show tunes.”  
  
“There’re good show tunes?”  
  
“Don’t you fucking _blaspheme_ in my _home_ , Matthew Michael Murdock.”  
  
Matt’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “You… consider this your home?”  
  
“You and Peter are here, why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
Matt swallowed hard and tucked his face against Foggy’s shoulder. “So you’re moving in with me?”  
  
“Might as well. When Peter’s a little older we’ll look into a bigger place. A two-bedroom with rooftop access is gonna be a bitch and a half to find, but we’ll manage.”  
  
“…thank you, Foggy.”  
  
“Don’t thank me for that, Matt. We’re married.”  
  
“Thank you for that, too.” Matt pressed his face into Foggy’s throat, running his fingers through Peter’s hair with a soft, pleased noise.  
  
Foggy sighed softly, tipping his head up to rest his chin on the top of Matt’s head and shifting carefully, pulling something out of his pocket. “Here. Kept it safe, like you asked.”  
  
His ring. His wedding ring. Matt meekly held out his hand, expecting Foggy to put his ring in his palm and sucked in a soft, sharp breath when Foggy slipped the ring onto his finger again. “…thanks, Foggy.”  
  
“What did I just say, Matt?”  
  
Matt didn’t answer him, running his hand gently over Peter’s back. “…is he okay?”  
  
“Had another nightmare, wouldn’t talk to me about it - shocking, I know - so we watched some more Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood and I pined for Zoobilee Zoo.”  
  
“Zoobilee Zoo?”  
  
“It was on when we were wee itty bitty kids ourselves - bunch of people in animal costumes who learned moral lessons based on the troubles little kids usually have, like learning to share. Or being scared of going to the doctor, _Matthew_.” Matt snorted. He wasn’t _scared_ of going to the doctor. He just had a lot of things that couldn't be explained. “I remember my parents had all the episodes on tape for me and Candy. I am pretty sure it was Zoobilee Zoo that cemented it for my parents that I was gonna be bisexual, because they were _not surprised at all_ when I came out.”  
  
“Why Zoobilee Zoo?”  
  
“Well, it was either Zoobilee Zoo or ThunderCats, but no one can blame me for my love of Panthro and Cheetara. But yeah, with Zoobilee Zoo I really liked Bravo Fox and Talkatoo Cockatoo, and I wanted to marry Mayor Ben, who was a leopard of some kind. But really, who wouldn’t want to marry Ben Vereen? Especially when he had that sweet video phone.”  
  
Matt chuckled softly, shaking his head against Foggy’s shoulder. “You worry me sometimes, Fog.”  
  
“You worry me all the time, so I think we’re even.”  
  
Peter sniffled in his sleep, yawning and lifting his head with a confused noise. “Papa?”  
  
“Hey, little one. Wanna try going back to bed?” Foggy murmured. “Daddy came out to check on us.”  
  
“Nuh uh. Monsters.”  
  
Matt blinked. “There're… monsters under your bed?”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“... well, I think I know a little something we can do to make 'em go away so you can go back to sleep.” Matt got to his feet and padded over to the door where he kept his cane and brought it back out, marching over to Peter's camp bed. “All right, monsters,” Matt said, in his best 'Dad Pretending To Be Captain America' voice. “You’d better come out, or I'll force you out!” A beat. “... did they leave?” Matt asked over his shoulder in an exaggerated whisper, and Peter giggled, shaking his head.  
  
“Not yet,” Foggy chuckled, hugging Peter tighter.  
  
“Then I have no choice,” Matt said, returning to the faux Captain America voice. “You’ve forced my hand, cretins! Have at you!” Matt swung his cane under the bed, not hard enough to bang too loudly in the early morning, but the resulting clacks of his cane against the legs of the camp bed were still satisfying. “Ha _ha_! Take _that_ , fiends! I do believe I've won this round.”  
  
“Oh my _brave_ _hero,_ ” Foggy cooed and sighed as Peter giggled, and Matt preened, spinning his cane dramatically before resting it on his shoulder as Foggy laughed. “What do you think, Pete? Did Daddy scare away the monsters enough for you to sleep?”  
  
Peter nodded. “Mmhm!”  
  
“Okay. Let’s get you tucked in, and meet you for breakfast in the morning when the sun’s awake, too.”  
  
Peter yawned, tucking his face into Foggy’s neck more before he shifted, leaning toward Matt. “Daddy…”  
  
Matt set his cane against the couch and hugged Peter close. “Hey, buddy.”  
  
“Somebody's taking the train to Sleepytime Junction,” Foggy sang softly, and Matt nearly choked. That was the song Foggy made up when he was annoyed at Matt for studying when Foggy thought he should be sleeping. The version he sang in college involved getting louder and louder and leaning on him until Matt gave up and went to bed before the rest of the floor killed them.  
  
Matt hoped it wouldn’t come to that, this time.  
  
“Somebody is so tired he can barely function,” Matt sang along, and Foggy squeezed his shoulder, grinning.  
  
“So he’s hopping by on that train to Sleepytime Junction… somebody's taking the train to Sleepytime Junction,” Foggy sang, keeping his voice pitched soft, even though in college this would be the part where he started to yell. “‘All aboard!’ cries the engineer, ‘Sleepytime Junction is so near!’ Somebody’s taking the train to Sleepytime Junction, somebody is so tired he can barely function…”  
  
Peter was out cold.  
  
“And he’s asleep,” Matt murmured, setting Peter down in bed and Foggy tucked the blankets up around him. “… you know, I end up humming that song to myself when I can’t sleep and meditation isn’t helping?”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Well, minus the yelling bit. It doesn’t actually help me fall asleep if it’s being yelled at me. Funny how that works.”  
  
Foggy chuckled softly, stretching and patting Matt’s shoulder. “Bedtime for us, too, Matty. C’mon.”  
  
Matt followed, sighing. “Just don’t sing to me like you did in college.”  
  
“And undo all my hard work getting Peter to sleep? Hell no. I’ll just smother you with a pillow until you stop squirming.”  
  
“Ah. Yes. A sign of true love, right there.”  
  
Foggy’s heart skipped a beat, but Matt was too tired to suss out the reason why. Maybe the bruising on his ribs was starting to show.  
  
All Matt knew was that he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow, surrounded by the smell and sound of Foggy.  
  
—  
  
Matt woke up wrapped around Foggy, fingers curled gently against Foggy’s sternum, feeling the slow and sleepy thumping of his heart against his fingertips. Matt yawned, pressing his palm flat to Foggy's chest to better feel his heartbeat against his hand.  
  
“Fresh,” Foggy murmured sleepily, lifting his hand to pat Matt's gently before settling over it when Matt tried to move it. “Are you listening to my heart while I sleep?”  
  
Matt was glad Foggy wasn’t looking at him; he had no idea what his face was even doing right now. “Yeah. Sounds good - good resting rate, good blood pressure, but you should cut back on the salt and fats.”  
  
“Better than going to the doctor.”  
  
“I never liked the look of your doctor, anyway.”  
  
Foggy groaned, taking the pillow out from under his head to smack Matt with it. “That is grounds for divorce. I'm taking you for everything you have, Murdock.”  
  
Matt grinned against Foggy's shoulder. “Never - I'm too Catholic for divorce.”  
  
“I love how you pick and choose what you are too and not too Catholic for, Matty. Something tells me that’s not actually how it’s supposed to work?”  
  
“Of course it is.” Matt wrapped his arms around Foggy, sighing contentedly as he held him. If anyone asked, he was just sleep disoriented. Or something.  
  
Perfectly believable, right?  
  
“This is how wars get started.”  
  
“Because I won't let you divorce me over blind puns?”  
  
“... actually. Matt? Maybe we should talk about this in serious, not-joking terms.”  
  
Matt froze. “Huh?”  
  
“What happens when you find someone you want to be with for real? Actually Married and not Platonic Married.”  
  
'I’ve wanted to marry you since _junior year of undergrad_ ,’ Matt thought blankly, still keeping his forehead pressed between Foggy's shoulders. 'Sophomore year, if I was in the habit of being more honest.’ “What about you? What happens when you find someone?”  
  
“Wow, way to dodge the question, Matty.”  
  
“Foggy, I don’t exactly have the time to go out and meet potential romantic partners between work, being Daredevil, and _my son's well being_.”  
  
Foggy scoffed. “You seriously mean to tell me none of the ladies you rescue are all 'oooh, Mister Daredevil, _please_ allow me to _thank you_ for saving my life with blow jobs’?”  
  
Was that something Foggy would offer a vigilante who just saved his life? Was that a line he would actually use? Maybe if it was Captain America. “...have you been watching bad Avengers parody porn again? Foggy, we _talked_ about this.”  
  
“I can’t help it - they just try _so hard_ to tell a story, Matt. I have to support them so we can eventually have better-quality Avengers parody porn.”  
  
“That’s… Foggy, no.” Matt sighed heavily and hugged Foggy tighter, his face still tucked against Foggy's shoulder. “... you never answered me.”  
  
“I’m not sure what you want to hear, Matt.”  
  
“The truth.”  
  
“Hilarious, coming from you.” Foggy must have felt Matt's flinch because he just patted Matt’s hand where he had fisted it in Foggy's shirt, right over his heart. “I’m not going anywhere, Matt. I can’t imagine anyone becoming more important to me than you and Peter. Even when Marci and I dated, she always complained about-” Foggy sighed again, reaching behind himself to pat Matt's thigh, and Matt desperately wanted to know what Marci had said to Foggy. “The point is, it is very obvious to both of us that this is not something we have to worry about right now, or any time soon.”  
  
“If you do-”  
  
“I’m not looking for _anything_ , Matt.”  
  
Matt kept his cheek pressed to Foggy’s shoulder, hugging him tighter, the rest of his protest dying in his throat. “... want eggs for breakfast?”  
  
Foggy sighed yet again, patted Matt’s hand again. “Yes, please.”  
  
Matt nodded, reluctantly releasing Foggy and sliding out of bed to shuffle quietly into the kitchen as Peter slept on in his bed.  
  
Foggy had just enough time to shower and get dressed before Peter woke up and Matt slid eggs from the pan onto three separate plates and fetched the toast from the toaster. “Good morning, starshine! Sleep okay?”  
  
“Nn.”  
  
“Yeah, I feel you, buddy. Daddy made breakfast so let's go eat, okay? Then we’re going into work!”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Daddy and I are lawyers. I’ll explain over breakfast.”  
  
Matt chuckled, listening while Foggy explained to Peter what a lawyer was, which led into talking about the “levels of law enforcement” and what each one did, Foggy demonstrating using the eggs and toast on Peter’s plate and some clementines from the fruit bowl.  
  
“Make sense?” Foggy asked as Peter finished off his eggs. “You are currently eating a jury of your peers, so I am gonna assume you get it.” Peter shrugged, and sucked pieces of egg from his fingers. “Ah well, we’ll try again in a few years. It is a little complicated and people go to school for _years_ to understand it all, and you haven't even started kindergarten yet.” Peter nodded and leaned against Foggy with a soft yawn. “Love you, kiddo. Let’s go get cleaned up and dressed, okay?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
Foggy helped Peter down off the stool and walked with him to help him get dressed as Matt did the dishes and hid a yawn behind a soapy hand.  
  
He could get used to mornings like this.  
  
\---  
  
“Huh,” Foggy said as stopped short in doorway to their office, Matt doing the same behind him with Peter peering around their legs. “That’s new.”  
  
Matt had picked up the fresh factory smell of plastic in the air as soon as they’d reached the floor. “What is it?”  
  
“There's a little desk next to Karen's that is toddler sized. With a plastic pen holder full of crayons.”  
  
“Oh? What color?”  
  
“Black.”  
  
“Excellent. We have standards of business in this office, you know.”  
  
“We do?” Foggy asked, teasing.  
  
“A black plastic pen holder full of crayons is exactly the sort of image of professionalism and gravitas we here at Nelson and Murdock pride ourselves on,” Matt affirmed with a chuckle. “But what do you think, Peter? Do you like the desk?”  
  
Peter nodded against Matt’s leg, petting his calf.  
  
“Oh! There you are!” Karen called from the kitchenette. “So I picked up something for Peter last night.”  
  
“The desk? We noticed.”  
  
Karen came in with two mugs of coffee that she handed to them. “Matt, coffee at your twelve o’clock. Yeah, I figured we didn’t have a place for him to sit, or things for him to do while we worked out the details of daycare and classes. So. Desk and chair. Crayons. A stack of coloring books and access to the copier so we can just make copies of the pages and not worry about having to buy a new book in a week.”  
  
“And it gives our clients with kids something for them to do while we take care of business. If we had any clients with kids. Or clients at all.”  
  
Karen waved her hands. “All I’m saying is it’s like an investment.”  
  
“I think it looks great, Karen,” Matt said, grinning wide into his coffee as she and Foggy groaned.  
  
“That is grounds for divorce, Foggy.”  
  
“That is what I said when he made a joke about not liking the look of my doctor this morning. Matt said he’s too Catholic for divorce.”  
  
“This is how wars get started you know,” Karen said, facing Matt.  
  
“I told him that, too!”  
  
Matt shrugged. “I’ll start being worried when Foggy starts talking about forming a new branch of the Church to get out of being married to me. Until then, I think we have work to do.”  
  
“Yup! C’mon, Pete, I'll show you where you’re gonna be helping me out in the office, okay?”  
  
Peter nodded, reaching up to take Karen's hand as she lead him over to the small plastic desk.  
  
\---  
  
His phone rang at a quarter to eleven with a number Matt didn’t recognize. “Hello?”  
  
“Hi Cookie, it’s Grandma!” a voice caroled from the other end of the line.  
  
There was only one woman who ever called him “Cookie.” Not even his _actual_ grandmother had called him “Cookie.” “Grandma Enid?”  
  
“Hey, baby! I heard from Anna about the wedding and the baby and I wanted to congratulate you!”  
  
She moved fast. “Oh! Thank you, Grandma Enid.”  
  
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t get up there to see it myself, even with the short notice. Ah well, I look forward to meeting my great-grandson at Thanksgiving this year!”  
  
“Is that your grandson?” a voice Matt didn’t recognize asked in the background.  
  
“Yeah, I'm talking to Matthew-” Enid said, probably holding the phone away from her mouth in a way she thought would muffle her voice.  
  
“Oh, tell him we say hello and congratulations!” said a different voice over the din of what sounded like an air dryer of some kind.  
  
“I will - Matthew, sweetheart, Harriet and June say hello and congratulations too. We all knew you two would work things out!”  
  
Who were Harriet and June again? “Thanks...”  
  
“Listen, Cookie, I gotta run - the girls and I are getting our hair done and then George is taking us to Publix for groceries. I just wanted to congratulate you and Frankie and to tell you your wedding gift is in the mail and so is a gift for Peter.”  
  
“Thank you, Gran-”  
  
“Love you!”  
  
The call disconnected and Matt sat there, feeling baffled in the same way he always did after speaking to Enid - he didn’t think she had slowed down for anything a day in her life.  
  
“Matt?” Foggy asked from the doorway to his office.  
  
“Yeah, Fog?”  
  
“Was that _my_ grandmother on the phone?”  
  
Matt could feel the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. “That was Grandma Enid, yeah.”  
  
“Why is _my_ grandmother calling you?”  
  
“To congratulate us on the wedding.”  
  
“And she called you. Not me, _you_.”  
  
Matt ducked his head. “I thought she already talked to you.”  
  
“And so it begins,” Foggy muttered. “Now that we’re married, I am being replaced as favorite grandson. Then again, that started happening when I first brought you home, so I am not sure why I am even the slightest bit surprised.”  
  
Matt chuckled. “Remind me who Harriet, June, and George are again?”  
  
“Harriet and June are Grandma Enid’s besties down in the retirement community where they live. George is Harriet’s husband - he’s probably taken over the chauffeur duties now that Pappy’s gone.”  
  
Matt nodded. He remembered when Enid and Pappy had decided to move to Florida permanently, in deference to Pappy’s declining health and how saddened Foggy had been; Patrick Nelson had ended up living long enough to see Foggy graduate from Columbia’s undergraduate program, but died that next winter.  
  
Matt had gone to the funeral and held Foggy’s hand the entire time.  
  
“Well, they say congratulations to us, too, and apparently we have a wedding gift and a gift for Peter in the mail.”  
  
“Oh, sweet. I forgot we actually get those! Damn, Matt, we should’ve gotten married _years_ ago! Think of all the money I wasted on kitchen appliances that I didn’t have to!”  
  
Matt blinked. “The… ones you don’t use?”  
  
“It’s different when _other_ people give you stuff you don’t use - that’s acceptable. They don’t know your life. _You_ buying yourself appliances you don’t use is just letting yourself down, knowing you were locked in that awful shame spiral that was late night infomercials and easy access to your credit card.”  
  
“I still have that one weird thing that’s supposed to make noodles out of zucchini,” Karen said from where she was holding Peter on her hip. “I don’t remember buying it, and I haven’t even taken it out of the packaging. I don’t even _like_ zucchini.”  
  
Foggy nodded. "Secret Infomercial shame, right?"  
  
"Drunk watching QVC, actually."  
  
"That might actually be worse."  
  
Matt chuckled. “Lucky me I don’t have that problem.”  
  
“What, Harriet Carter doesn’t have magazines in braille that they send to you with descriptions of all the adorable and pointless crap they have? Are you not tempted by descriptions of dachshund door draft stoppers and monkey-themed banana trees and stuffed teddy bears that say the Lord’s Prayer when you press their bellies?”  
  
Karen snorted, tossing her hair back. “The fact that you can just recite those off the top of your head makes me very worried about you, Foggy.”  
  
“They have a website now,” Foggy said primly. “I browse.”  
  
Karen nodded. “ _Ah_.”  
  
Matt snorted, shaking his head. “Not in the slightest.”  
  
“Boo, no fun!”  
  
Matt laughed, fond and delighted as he leaned back in his chair. “But I also don’t have a bunch of junk cluttering up our place that neither Foggy nor myself use.” There was a long moment of silence. “... what?”  
  
“It’s just really cute,” Karen said, setting Peter down so he could walk over to Matt and climb into his lap. “It’s ‘our place’ now instead of just yours. You two are _actually_ living together now.”  
  
“You… do remember we have been roommates before, right?” Foggy asked. “From freshman year of undergrad to graduating law school. It’s not like we haven’t done the cohabitating thing before.”  
  
“Did you share a bed then?”  
  
“There have been several moments of bedsharing, yes. It happens when you get drunk, or stay up late watching movies, or spend all night studying.”  
  
“That's all accidental, Foggy-” Karen started and Matt let the sound of their voices wash over him as Peter pressed his ear to Matt's chest, curling into a small ball in his lap.  
  
“You okay, bud?” Matt asked him softly, and Peter shrugged against his stomach. “You want to take a nap?” Another shrug. “Okay. We can stay just like this.”  
  
Peter let out a slow breath. “Daddy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“S’nice.”  
  
Matt grinned, rubbing Peter's back. “Yeah. It is, isn’t it?”  
  
Karen and Foggy continued to bicker as Matt cuddled Peter close.  
  
\---  
  
The weekend passed without much incident save for what was becoming the usual, anyway - Peter having a nightmare and Matt going out as Daredevil while Foggy stayed up waiting - and Monday afternoon, Foggy got a call.  
  
“Hello?” Foggy answered as the four of them had lunch around the conference table, Peter picking out the pieces of roast pork from his plate of lo mein to eat first as Karen softly described what he was doing for Matt.  
  
“Franklin Nelson? This is Francesca Pignelli.” It took everything in Matt's power not to snap to attention at the name.  
  
“Frankie! Hey!”  
  
Karen jerked the same time Matt did, Matt’s reaction carefully planned and Karen’s in more pure surprise, and both of them moved to put their hands on Peter's back. “Oh…” she murmured.  
  
“Hi Foggy.” Her voice was much warmer now, and Matt could hear the smile in it. “I know it’s during the workday and all, but I need to have an at-home visit with you and your spouse about Peter. Can you be there in an hour?”  
  
Foggy reached out and laced his fingers with Matt’s other hand. “Yeah, sure - is everything okay?”  
  
“Oh, yes, everything is fine! It’s just some final paperwork you need to sign before you and Mr. Murdock are officially Peter's parents.”  
  
Matt’s breath caught in his throat as Foggy squeezed his hand. “Yeah, we can meet you at home - do you have the address?”  
  
“Brett gave me both of your addresses, but he said he didn’t know which one you were going to be moving into…?”  
  
“Ah, Matt’s - we’re all living in Matt’s space right now. Well, our space, now, but yeah.”  
  
As Foggy confirmed the address for her, Matt felt Karen grip his wrist across Peter’s back.  
  
“Okay,” Francesca was saying, “so I’ll meet you there in an hour and we’ll finalize everything, okay?”  
  
“Excellent, thanks, we’ll see you then! Thank you so much, Francesca.”  
  
“Foggy, when Brett told me you and your partner wanted to adopt that little boy after what happened to him… let’s just say I knew this was the right thing to do and leave it at that, okay? I’ll see you in an hour.”  
  
“Yeah… bye, Frankie.” Foggy ended the call and took a deep breath. “We need to close early today - Frankie’s coming by the apartment to finalize the adoption stuff.”  
  
Karen squeaked and clapped her hands in front of herself excitedly. “Oh my God! Yay! Should I be there?”  
  
Foggy shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay - we’ll call you and then we’ll all go out for dinner tomorrow or something to celebrate.”  
  
Karen kissed Peter’s cheek and leaned over to give Matt a squeeze. “Good luck!” She reached out and squeezed Foggy’s hand as well. “I’ll clean up here - you guys get going!”  
  
“Thank you, Karen.”  
  
Matt swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. “We have some time, still - Peter can finish his lunch, can’t he?”  
  
Karen’s face heated. “Oh! Yeah, of course! Sorry - I got excited!”  
  
Peter slurped up a lo mein noodle, giggling quietly as it hit him on the nose, and Foggy laughed. “Soon, Pete, you’ll be our kid officially. Isn’t that great?”  
  
Peter leaned back into Matt and nodded. “Mm!”  
  
\---  
  
They made it back to the apartment fifteen minutes before Francesca was supposed to arrive, and Foggy rushed around to pick up while Matt sat with Peter on the couch.  
  
“Foggy?”  
  
“We’re okay - everything’s clean, nothing incriminating is lying out in plain sight and the steps leading to the roof have been officially baby gated - and I texted my cousin Jules and she’ll be by to fix it later in the week as a wedding gift, so that’s a relief.”  
  
“It’ll be nice to have it fixed, yeah. Foggy, please sit down, you’re making me nervous.”  
  
Foggy slumped to the couch next to them, and Peter crawled from Matt’s lap into Foggy’s. “Hi, Pete.”  
  
“Hi Papa,” Peter whispered, reaching up to pet Foggy’s hair.  
  
There was a knock at the door and Foggy set Peter aside to open it. “Frankie! Wow, you look fantastic!”  
  
“Hi, Foggy,” Francesca said, her voice warm and bright as she grinned. “It’s good to see you again.”  
  
Matt got to his feet, tilting his head curiously as Foggy led her into the living room. “Foggy?”  
  
“Oh! Matt, Frankie’s here. Francesca Pignelli, my partner and husband, Matthew Murdock. Matt, Francesca Pignelli, angel on Earth.”  
  
Francesca laughed. “Flattery will not get papers signed, Foggy. I couldn’t get the paperwork in braille in time, Matt, I’m sorry, but I can read them to you, or Foggy can if you’re more comfortable with that.”  
  
“No, it’s fine, I-”  
  
“I swear to God, Matthew, if you tell her ‘I like the sound of your voice’...”  
  
Matt blinked behind his glasses. “While she does have a nice voice that I do, in fact, like listening to, I was going to say I was fine with her reading them to us for the sake of celerity.”  
  
“... is the voice thing a line?”  
  
Foggy nodded to Francesca. “It is _such_ a line.”  
  
“Is that how he got you to marry him?” she asked, grinning.  
  
“It’s… more like I told him we were getting married and he just went along with it. We really wanted to adopt Peter and once Brett told us you needed the marriage license… well. That was that, as far as I was concerned.”  
  
Francesca snorted as she laughed, clearing her throat. “ _Ahem_. Sorry. That’s just - that’s very _you_ , Foggy.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Once you’re told something needs to happen for something you _want_ , you get it done in the most efficient way possible. I’d say almost brutally efficient if you didn’t genuinely take other people’s feelings into account. You’ve always been that way - a weird sort of ambitious. Remember when we were sorting ourselves into Hogwarts houses when we were in middle school?”  
  
“Uh, yeah - you called me the Hufflepuffiest Slytherin Ever.”  
  
“Like how Harry could’ve gone into either Gryffindor or Slytherin and he only went into Gryffindor because the Hat took his feelings into account,” Francesca said with a nod. “That’s what you’re like.”  
  
Peter tilted his head curiously, tucking closer to Matt’s side as he watched them. Foggy seemed bemused. “Uh. Thanks? Nice to know I haven’t changed in twenty-some odd years?”  
  
“Not the things that make you a good person, at least. I read about you two and your work on the Fisk case, you know. Anyway!” Francesca said suddenly, the loud smack of a large sheaf of papers hitting the coffee table making Matt and Peter jump and Peter tuck himself more firmly against Matt’s side. “Paperwork. Let’s do this.”  
  
It felt like time both sped up and slowed down, the way it always did when you had to fill out the same information in triplicate on multiple forms, but the forms were still just different enough that you had to pay attention to them.  
  
Peter, thankfully, was sitting at the other end of the coffee table, with some coloring book pages Karen sent home with him and a little box of crayons she had tucked away somewhere. Matt hoped they’d be enough to keep him engaged while they did this.  
  
They filled out forms that changed Peter's name (“Foggy, we never talked middle names-” “I was thinking Jonathan, after your dad?”) and Matt had to take a few deep breaths, his hand clutching Foggy’s as Foggy continued to fill things out, and Francesca graciously didn’t ask about it, both of them leaving Matt to get his emotions under control.  
  
When the last paper was signed, Francesca let out an explosive breath. “Well, gentlemen, congratulations. You’re now parents, and Peter is now your son.”  
  
“Hear that, Pete? You’re _officially_ our kid now!” Foggy laughed as Peter scrambled up into their laps and hugged them, surprisingly tolerant when Foggy and Matt both started crying into his hair.  
  
Francesca sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I have to get this all back to the office - I’ll have your copy in the mail, but as of today, you’re a family now. I’ll see myself out, okay?”  
  
“Okay. Frankie? Thank you so much.”  
  
Francesca patted Foggy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Anytime, Foggy. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”  
  
Matt wasn’t sure how long they sat there together, Matt wrapped around Foggy and Peter, sniffling into Peter’s hair as he clung to them, but eventually, Foggy untangled himself from them to kiss Peter’s forehead and ruffle Matt’s hair before shuffling off to go order them all dinner.  
  
‘I am gonna be the best Father I can be for you, Peter,’ Matt thought to himself throughout the evening, over and over until long after they’d tucked Peter into bed for the night.  
  
“You need to stop standing over him like that, Matty,” Foggy said from the door to the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom).  
  
“I can’t. He’s _ours_ now, Foggy. This… this is _our_ kid. No one is gonna take him away from us. He’s… he’s our little boy.”  
  
Foggy sighed and walked over to Matt, taking him by the hand and resting it, featherlight on Peter’s hair. “So, his hair’s this kind of medium brown color, like new tree bark,” he murmured next to Matt’s ear, and Matt sucked in a sharp breath. “And when he’s awake, he’s got these big dark brown doe eyes that seem like they take in everything around him… He’s got a little nose, cute and kinda squishy and it wrinkles when he’s confused by something. His mouth is kinda wide - like it was made for smiling.”  
  
“He doesn’t smile enough,” Matt murmured, tracing a finger over the curve of Peter’s cheek.  
  
“He will. His skin’s kinda pale - we need to stock up on sunscreen or this kid is gonna be a lobster if he’s outside for more than five minutes.”  
  
“Just like you and I, huh?” Matt murmured, then paused. “... Foggy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“I…” ‘I love you. Thank you. Thank you for everything. I love you so much, Foggy.’  “Tell me what he looks like again?”  
  
Matt could feel Foggy’s smile against his cheek. “Yeah. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those with keen eyes may have noticed the "Sleepytime Junction" song! To be perfectly transparent, I did not come up with it at all and it is, in fact, used without permission, though something tells me they're not going to give a shit about me using it in a fic? Originally written and sung by Dan Avidan of Game Grumps and Ninja Sex Party fame, though I credited it to Foggy in this fic and changed the origin of it (obviously). Foggy is totally enough of a dick to make up obnoxious lullabys to yell at his friends until they sleep.
> 
> You can hear a nice remix of the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZbmcTHkTPg) and the original tale of the song's creation [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD5EXEraGhE).
> 
>  
> 
> Come hit me up over at [my tumblr](http://amaronith.tumblr.com/)!


	10. Interlude: The Father, The Son, And The Devil's Advocate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On the one hand, I find myself in the same position as the nuns, what with worrying about the people I care about and their health. On the other hand? Cookies.”
> 
> “It is a struggle. Especially when the Girl Scouts come around.”
> 
> "They may look sweet and innocent, but those little girls are brutal, vicious monsters. I feel like a junkie when I see them with their tables set up. I'm always like 'well, what's _one_ more box of Samoas?' and then suddenly I have six boxes of Samoas, a freezer full of Thin Mints and a growing sense of shame to fill the hole in my bank account."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually set sometime in the beginning of chapter 10! However, it makes more sense, timeline wise, to put it here. Enjoy everyone!

Father Lantom didn’t look up from where he was kneeling in the pews when the door to his church opened, and then was shut carefully and whomever it was made their way down the aisle to sit next to him. The most likely visitor at this hour was ruled out as he didn’t hear the tell-tale tapping of Matthew’s cane. He finished his prayer and looked up to see Franklin Nelson waiting patiently for him. “Hello, Franklin.”  
  
“Hey, Father.” He smiled at him, bright and easy. “I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer of a latte?”  
  
Father Lantom nodded, getting to his feet. “Are you troubled, Franklin?”  
  
A half-shrug. “Eh. No more than usual. But Matt’s in the office doing paperwork he doesn’t need my help with, and Karen took Peter to the park for lunch and bonding time, so… now’s as good a time as any, right?”  
  
“True enough. Come, let’s sit in my office - I believe the nuns are currently in the other room using the new latte machine. They decided to put the old one in my office.”  
  
“That was nice of them.”  
  
“They did it because if the coffee is closer at hand, I’m less likely to go into the community room for a cup and sneak some cookies - they worry about my health.”  
  
“On the one hand, I find myself in the same position as the nuns, what with worrying about the people I care about and their health. On the other hand? Cookies.”  
  
“It is a struggle. Especially when the Girl Scouts come around,” Father Lantom said, opening the door to his office and stepping aside to let Franklin in.  
  
"They may look sweet and innocent, but those little girls are brutal, vicious monsters. I feel like a junkie when I see them with their tables set up. I'm always like 'well, what's _one_ more box of Samoas?' and then suddenly I have six boxes of Samoas, a freezer full of Thin Mints and a growing sense of shame to fill the hole in my bank account. I try to tell myself it’s for a good cause, to help ease my conscience."  
  
Father Lantom started making two cups of coffee as Franklin looked around his office. “Have trouble with your conscience a lot, Franklin?”  
  
“Oh, please, call me Foggy - everyone does.” Lantom turned to look at Franklin and arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, wow - does that look work on Matt too, even though he can’t see it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Franklin chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s-it’s effective. I… I wouldn’t say I have a _problem_ with my conscience. I believe in the work that I do, and I believe Matt and I are doing a lot of good for the people of Hell’s Kitchen.”  
  
Lantom hummed thoughtfully. “But?”  
  
“... there… _is_ something that’s been bothering me, a little. Since Matt and I got married.”  
  
 _Ah_. “Sugar?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, please and thank you.”  
  
Lantom stirred some sugar into both cups of coffee before carrying them over to his desk and setting one down in front of Franklin. He settled into his own chair and folded his hands in front of him. “I’m listening, Franklin. Seal of confession applies even in here.”  
  
“I’m not - it’s not _confession_. Not really. I’m not worried for my mortal soul or anything, Father. If I was going to be going to Hell for _anything_ it would probably be for that time I accidentally-on-purpose broke Mom’s clown statue and blamed Candace for it.”  
  
“... accidentally on purpose?”  
  
“It was nightmare fuel. Trust me, I did the world a favor by destroying it like it was The One Ring and I was at Mount Doom.”  
  
“But there is still something bothering you about your marriage.”  
  
Franklin sighed heavily and sipped his coffee. “I’m in love with Matt.”  
  
Lantom wanted to sigh. ‘Why am I not surprised Matthew married someone who thinks that being in love with him is something to confess to?’    
  
“Being honest,” Franklin continued, “I fell in love with him in freshman year of undergrad, when he tried to play off the fact that he’s an actual hero as 'just doing what anyone else would’ve done.’ I mean _really_ , how am I not supposed to fall for a line like _that_ , with that face and that smile and - and then I actually got to _know_ him, and he’s just-” Franklin sighed again. “He’s _wonderful_. And he’s known how I felt about him this whole time and never said anything, which is either very kind of him or very cruel, and I have no idea which.”  
  
Father Lantom watched as Franklin sipped his coffee. “Truly?”  
  
“How could he not know? When he can hear my heartbeat from four blocks away and smell what I had for lunch yesterday, and taste the difference between when I've been sad crying or laughing crying. How can he not know that I’m in love with him? He’s just… not in love with me back. And I accepted that. I accepted that a long long time ago, but then Peter happened and Matt wanted so badly to be his father and they never would’ve let him adopt Peter on his own and I was gonna practically raise the kid anyway because it’s not like Matt will ever stop being - you know.”  
  
Lantom did know. He knew all too well. “Yes, of course.”  
  
“So - so I thought we’d just… adopt Peter together. You know. Like best friends do all the time. Just bros being bros and adopting a kid together, no hidden feelings here.”  
  
Lantom stopped mid-sip and set his cup down sharply. “ _Franklin_.”  
  
Franklin groaned, burying his hands in his hair. “I know, _I know_. I’m an _idiot_ but Matt’s never had a best friend before me - or, at least, that is what he told me - so he’s sort of… playing off my cues, for best friend behavior?”  
  
“Even though he supposedly knows you’re in love with him.”  
  
“Yeah. So. Just. Adopt a kid together, whatever, it’s not like we’re not already tied together forever in debt and he’s not in my will.”  
  
It was only years of being a priest in Hell’s Kitchen (and months of listening to Matthew Murdock’s confessions) that allowed Father Lantom’s face to remain placid and caringly neutral and not have his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Matthew’s in your will?”  
  
“Yeah - and the, um, beneficiary of my life insurance policy.”  
  
“And that was before you got married?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Father Lantom took another sip of coffee. “Please continue. I’m… still not sure what your problem is?”  
  
Franklin chewed on his lower lip. “I feel… kind of terrible. Like I conned Matt into marrying me because I saw a chance for us to be together, even platonically, and I took it. I didn’t even think about it, I was just like ‘oh, we have to be married to adopt Peter? Just call me Mister Foggy Murdock.’ Only not, because we’re too cheap to change the sign, so I’m still just Foggy Nelson, but that’s not the point. The point is Matt’s trapped in a sham marriage because I’m a giant asshole and used an innocent little boy to get what I always wanted.”  
  
“Which was being married to Matthew.”  
  
Franklin nodded, looking down into the dregs of his latte. “Don’t misunderstand, Father. I love Peter, more than anything, more than life itself, and I would’ve adopted him myself if Matt wasn’t in the picture. But that doesn’t change that I used him, selfishly and without remorse.”  
  
“Except that you are remorseful, Franklin. You just said you feel terrible about what you’ve done,” Lantom pointed out.  
  
“I didn’t at the time. And… I don’t know if I actually feel bad about using Peter as much as I feel bad about not feeling bad. Like, I should feel awful that I used his misfortune for my gain, but I have a great kid and a wonderful husband. Who _is_ wonderful, even if he runs around the rooftops at night dressed like an idiot and punching criminals in the face and nearly getting shot.”  
  
“A wonderful husband, even though he doesn’t love you back the same way you love him?”  
  
Franklin nodded and drained his cup. “I can’t make him love me, Father. I can only accept what I get as being enough.” There was a long pause before Franklin got to his feet. “I have to get back to the office - thanks for listening, Father Lantom.”  
  
Father Lantom nodded. “Of course, Franklin. Anytime. And… leave the cup - I’ll take care of it myself.”  
  
Franklin smiled at him, a sad smile that seemed out of place on his face. “Thanks, Father Lantom. Next time I’ll sneak you some cookies. And talk about something happier.” He headed out of the office, closing the door softly behind him.  
  
Lantom took a deep breath and peered down into his half-empty latte before he calmly reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a flask half-full of whiskey. He opened the flask and topped off his latte. He then drank the rest of the liquor straight from the flask and closed it, setting it aside very carefully. He buried his head in his hands.  
  
That was exactly how Sister Eustacia found him, twenty minutes later.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Please - Please_ , he’s my _son. Please help my son._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
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> Dadvocados Cover Art by [Sciderman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman) (commission info can be found [here](http://sciderman.tumblr.com/post/148710908397/hey-guys-its-that-time-again-even-though-i))
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> I told you guys I'd have a treat for you :D
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> Also: Thank you [Torrential](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential) for copy editing this, as per usual. ((Tor is the best you guys, go read everything they've written and squee.))

After the adoption was finalized, everything seemed to weirdly settle into place, and it was like Foggy and Peter had always been living with Matt. Matt’s bed smelled like FoggyandMatt all the time (and it was _glorious_ ), and Foggy’s clothes filled half of Matt’s dresser and half of Matt’s closet. Foggy had even made braille labels for his own clothing (mostly they said things like “Foggy’s grey suit” or “Foggy’s black suit,” but then ventured into just saying “Foggy’s” and from there, things like “Uncle Knick-knack’s Summer Wardrobe,” and “Uncle Knick-knack’s Winter Wardrobe,” and “Uncle Knick-knack”), and Peter got his own, smaller chest of drawers to in which to keep his own clothing.  
  
Peter started to insist on picking out his own clothing for “going to the office,” wearing a plain black or grey t-shirt (Foggy insisted that no sane parent let a toddler wear white) with whatever color his pants were and then changing into something more colorful when they came home for the day, if not just changing right into his pajamas (usually the set that had beakers and test tubes on them). The only time he seemed to wear anything else to the office was Thursdays, which, if Matt understood his son’s mumbling correctly, were Auntie Karen days, and Peter wore a shirt that had some kind of flower on it and he and Karen went to Central Park for lunch and some outside play time. Sometimes Matt or Foggy went with them, other times it was just Karen. Once, after Brett had accepted the position of being Peter’s Godfather, he had joined Karen and Peter, but neither he, nor Karen, would tell Matt and Foggy how that went, just that it had “been fun.” For the most part, Peter didn’t seem to enjoy playing with other children as much as he liked to just sit outside while Karen read to him, though she could sometimes convince him to run around on the grass and go on the swings in the park, as long as she would run around with him and push him carefully on the swings.  
  
At home, Peter was content to watch YouTube videos or Netflix on Foggy's laptop with them while Foggy softly described what was going on for Matt, or to just read with Foggy and Matt (Foggy did the reading while Matt and Peter listened), and sometimes he would color (if he drew his own pictures at all, he never showed them to anyone). Peter was, all in all, an almost freakishly quiet and well-behaved child.  
  
Except he still had nightmares. Every night. If Matt was home, he would hear Peter wake up crying quietly to himself. If he was out as Daredevil, he would come home to Foggy and Peter passed out on the couch together. Even with what became a bedtime ritual of Matt heroically using his cane to drive away monsters from under the bed, Peter's nightmares were constant and utterly terrifying for him.  
  
Matt hated it. Hated that with everything they tried, he and Foggy couldn’t help him get rid of them. They could sing and read and tuck him in with all the kisses and cuddles in the world, and they could comfort him after the fact, but they couldn’t keep him from ever being scared in the first place.  
  
Worst of all, he still wasn’t talking. Whispered or mumbled one to two word answers here and there, certainly, but mostly Peter communicated in head shakes or nods or shrugs or grunts and hums. Matt knew Peter could hear them, and knew that Peter knew _how_ to talk, but Peter was choosing not to - especially not when they were in public - and neither he nor Foggy nor Karen could figure out why.  
  
September started, and with it so did the Mommy/Daddy and Me American Sign Language class. Three days a week, Foggy and Peter left the office to go to the class, and with it, Peter _blossomed_. It seemed like once Peter realized he could communicate without making a sound, he absorbed the information like a sponge and took off, signing rapidly to Foggy and teaching Karen and Matt the signs as well (at least, in Matt’s case, the alphabet, pressing each of his signs to Matt’s palm so Matt could feel what they were. When he asked Foggy about it later, Foggy had sounded utterly baffled. “I’m telling you, Matt, we didn’t talk about Helen Keller or anything like that - he just decided to teach you like that on his own,” and Matt wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that) so that he could communicate better with them. What had started as nodding or shaking his head no had evolved into “I want this instead” and “Papa, please read this with me” and, though slower, “Daddy, hug me.”  
  
It was fascinating, however, to observe Peter’s increasingly complex conversations with Foggy - Foggy, who spoke aloud even as he signed with faint hopes of getting Peter to start doing the same and also for Matt’s benefit - and find out that his son had _so many questions_ about _everything_ , from why rain fell and how day became night to things like what color cheese, of all things, tasted like. Peter seemed convinced it tasted blue, while Foggy was firmly in the green camp. Karen’s vote was yellow, which had apparently earned her an eyeroll from Peter, and Matt’s vote of purple - after, of course, determining what kind of cheese they had been talking about - had caused an apparent thought-crisis in Peter, who sat down at his desk mouthing “ _purple_?” to himself for an hour after the conversation.  
  
Once, when Matt softly asked Peter why he wasn’t talking out loud to them, when they knew he could, Peter had sharply signed “May” and then went to sit in the corner with the stuffed bear Brett had gotten him, hugging it tightly to his chest and just shaking his head when Matt or Foggy spoke to him for nearly a half an hour. Matt and Foggy decided not to ask again.  
  
It was a Daredevil-less night when Matt heard the whimpers that usually signalled Peter about to wake up, and he untangled himself from Foggy as delicately as he could without waking him - Foggy usually insisted on allowing Peter the option of coming to them at night if they were both home instead of going to him, arguing that it was important for Peter's development, and it killed Matt every time to listen to Peter struggle with himself before hunting down Matt and Foggy for cuddles. Matt moved silently into the living room, to the corner they had separated off with some standing shades to signify it as being Peter's Space, and rested a hand on Peter's back.  
  
“Peter?”  
  
Peter woke with a wet gasp and flinched away from Matt for a moment before he whispered, “Daddy?”  
  
“Yeah, bud, it’s Daddy. I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?”  
  
Peter sniffled and nodded as he lifted his arms, circling them around Matt's neck and pressing his damp face against Matt's shoulder.  
  
“It was bad tonight, huh?”  
  
A nod.  
  
Foggy was still asleep, and Matt chewed the inside of his lower lip. ‘I can do this without Foggy tonight. He deserves to sleep.’ “Peter?”  
  
A snuffle.  
  
“Now, I can’t read the same books that Papa reads to you, but there’s one book that I read a lot, when I’m scared and upset.” Matt carried Peter over to the bookcase, running his fingers over the braille spines. “It’s a collection of speeches written by a man named Thurgood Marshall, who was the first African-American to serve in the Supreme Court - he’s been a real inspiration to me, ever since I was a child. He’s the man who first got me interested in going into law.” Matt pulled the book from the shelf, and carried it and Peter to the couch and sat down. “I can read this book, because it’s written in a special language developed for the blind.” Matt opened the book, and grinning at Peter’s curious noise. “What is it?”  
  
Peter reached out and made a startled noise as his fingers touched the paper. “Rough,” he whispered.  
  
“Yep - braille is raised bumps and each pattern of bumps indicates a different letter, so you have to feel for what _isn’t_ there just as much as you feel what is there. I think Papa might still have the materials from when he was trying to learn braille and you can learn it, too, if you want that.” Peter nodded, settling against Matt’s chest as he sniffled. “Okay, we’ll talk to Papa in the morning. But right now, shall I read to you? It’s a little advanced for you, I think - Thurgood Marshall didn’t really write his speeches with little ones like you in mind - but if you have questions you can ask me, okay?” Another nod, and Peter tucked himself up more against Matt, one hand pressed to his chest as Matt settled his fingers against the page of the book and began to read aloud.  
  
Matt wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he read, too busy focusing on Peter’s heartbeat and his breath, listening for the moment his son fell asleep to pay attention to something as inconsequential as time. “‘There is a price to be paid for division and isolation. Democracy cannot flourish amid hate. Justice cannot take root amid rage. We must dissent from the indifference. We must dissent from the apathy. We must dissent from the fear,’” Matt murmured against Peter’s hair, and Peter had fallen asleep between one breath and the next, fingers curled weakly against Matt’s chest.  
  
“He’s a little young to start with the Marshall indoctrination, isn’t he?” Foggy murmured from the doorway of their bedroom.  
  
“It’s not _indoctrination_ , Foggy, he was upset and I didn’t want to wake you,” Matt murmured back.  
  
“Uh huh. He’ll know that speech by heart by the time he’s four.”  
  
“That’s next month, Foggy.” Oh God, his baby was turning four _next month_.  
  
“I know.” Foggy settled down next to Matt on the couch. “... keep reading?”  
  
“... yeah, okay.” Matt traced his fingers over the letters, trying to find where he left off, and began to read again.  
  
\---  
  
It was getting closer to October and there was a chill in the night air that all of New York was grateful for after the sweltering heat of the daytime, the weather still not sure if it was summer or fall yet, and Matt was grateful for it. What he was not grateful for was that with the shifting weather, Peter had gotten a case of the sniffles that he couldn’t seem to kick, which had Karen and Foggy following the poor kid around with soft tissues as he dripped snot everywhere, even if everywhere just meant walking tiredly between the three of them to sit miserably in their laps. For his part, Matt waited until Peter came to him before handing him tissues and getting a weakly signed “thank you” pressed to his chest.  
  
A few days into this, Matt started his patrol as Daredevil as soon as Peter fell asleep, tucked in after a warm bath and some children’s Tylenol on the advice of Foggy’s mother. Matt paused on the edge of a rooftop, just to catch his breath, when the burner rang with the special yet completely generic ringtone Foggy had picked for himself ("So you know it's me without everyone else knowing it's me," he had said as he scrolled through the tones. "Don't worry, it won't be something that will embarrass you in front of the criminals, though I admit I _am_ tempted by the Saucy Samba one…").  
  
Matt couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he tucked himself into the alcove on the rooftop, hidden from casual view. "Hey, you."  
  
"I don't want you to freak out, okay, but Peter is running _really_ hot. I'm gonna take him to the ER.”  
  
Matt froze, unable to draw a breath like he had just been punched in the chest. "I'm on my way.”  
  
"… are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure!" Matt snapped. He disconnected the call and turned, running full-tilt back toward the apartment.  
  
Foggy was going to take Peter to the hospital and didn’t want _Matt_ to freak out. Had asked if Matt was _sure,_ as though Matt would choose staying out as Daredevil over being there for his _son_ in the _hospital_.  
  
But then he slowed as he landed on the next roof: Foggy was right to think that. Foggy was _absolutely_ _right_ to think that, because Matt had done nothing _but_ that since even before Peter came into their lives. The _whole point_ of Foggy marrying him to adopt Peter was that so Foggy would be there for Peter when Matt couldn’t be.  
  
Because he was Daredevil.  
  
Matt clenched his jaw and focused his senses, pushing them as far as they could reach.  
  
He was lucky. It was a quiet night.  
  
He kept running.  
  
—  
  
Matt burst into the apartment through the rooftop access as Foggy held Peter close, tugging Peter’s hat down over his eyes. “Hey, hi, gimmie ten minutes and we can go, okay?”  
  
“You have five.”  
  
Matt flinched, already half out of the suit top as he made his way into the bedroom. “Foggy…”  
  
Foggy looked up from his phone at Matt. “Not in an angry way - that’s when the car service is getting here, and Peter’s getting warmer.”  
  
Ah. Matt nodded and finished stripping out of the Daredevil armor, kicking the whole mess under the bed and hoping it was out of sight as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and Foggy’s old Columbia sweatshirt from when they were in undergrad. Matt slipped his feet into a pair of loafers just as Foggy’s phone chimed. “Foggy?”  
  
“Car service just pulled up. Nice timing.”  
  
“Thanks-”  
  
“C’mon. Grab your cane.”  
  
Matt snagged his cane from where he rested it against the wall next to the door and took Foggy’s arm as Foggy opened the front door. “Peter?”  
  
Peter snuffled from under his hat, but didn’t do anything but shift his face deeper into Foggy’s throat.  
  
They hurried carefully down the stairs and into the waiting car. “Where’re we going?” the driver asked, already peeling out into traffic.  
  
“Metro General,” Matt said, his voice tight. Claire was working tonight. Claire was an ER nurse. Claire could help Peter. _Would_ help Peter, even though Matt hadn’t spoken to her in more than a month.  
  
The drive felt like it took forever, with the car service driver chatting with Foggy about something Matt didn’t even bother to follow, instead focusing all of his senses on Peter. He was wheezing weakly against Foggy’s throat, his skin too hot and his lungs rattling with every struggling breath. Foggy's leather satchel dug sharply into Matt's side, but it was an afterthought, insignificant.  
  
Foggy passed Peter into Matt’s arms as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the hospital. “Get him inside while I pay, okay?”  
  
Matt nodded, holding Peter close and careful as he hurried out of the car, cane clacking as he rushed into the ER entrance of the hospital. He couldn’t stop the flinch as the smells and sounds of the hospital practically assaulted his senses, antiseptic and sickness and stress hormones and bad coffee along with the beeping of heart monitors and the hissing of oxygen tanks and the squeaking of the soles of comfortable shoes and the uneven rattle of a meal cart’s wheels.  
  
And then there was Claire’s heartbeat, her voice at the triage counter, and Matt was shouting before he could stop himself. “ _Claire!_ ”  
  
“Wh- _Matt?!_ ” Claire rushed over to him.  
  
“Claire, I need your help, it’s Peter-”  
  
Claire put her hands on Matt’s arms, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Matt, please, take a deep breath, okay? Slow down, and tell me what’s going on. Who is this?”  
  
“Claire, _please_ -” and Matt’s voice cracked, breaking around the heavy lump in his throat because he couldn’t fight this - this wasn’t a nightmare he could chase away with stories and Thurgood Marshall quotes or shaking his cane under Peter’s bed. This wasn’t something Daredevil _or_ Matt Murdock could fight. “ _Please_ , he’s my _son. Please help my son_.”  
  
Claire nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll help you fill out the paperwork.”  
  
“ _Thank you_.” The words ripped out of him like a sob, and Peter whimpered in his arms.  
  
“ _Daddy,_ ” Peter rasped, tiny voice soft and painful-sounding.  
  
“I’m here, Pete. Daddy’s right here… this is Daddy’s friend Claire - she’s a nurse here at the hospital and she’s gonna help you feel better, okay?” Peter nodded against his jaw, and Matt swallowed hard.  
  
Foggy rushed over. “Matt - Claire, hi.”  
  
“Hey. You know only family’s gonna be able to go in with them, right?”  
  
“He’s my husband.” Matt could practically hear the skepticism in Claire’s look as she leveled it at Matt, then Foggy, then Matt again. “In - in August. We got married in August. August sixth.”  
  
Claire nodded slowly. “Okay then. That’s… something we can talk about later, after we get this little one taken care of. Tell me what you can about his condition.”  
  
Foggy nodded, filling in the paperwork as Claire sat with them after snagging a clipboard from the triage nurse. “He’s functionally mute right now - only Matt can hear him when he talks unless I’m, like, right in his face, but we’ve been going to ASL classes lately-”  
  
“Foggy.” Matt tried to use the steady patience in Claire’s voice as an anchor against the turmoil of his own emotions. “What’s _wrong_ with him?”  
  
“Oh-” Foggy sounded embarrassed for a second before getting with the program. “He’s been sniffly and wheezy for the past few days, but we figured it might just be some minor allergies - we’re right near Central Park, you know? It’s time for those late summer-early fall allergies. But he was feeling a little warm before we put him to bed, so I gave him a lukewarm bath and some children’s Tylenol - because I called my mom in a panic because _Oh God My Baby_ and that’s what she told me to do.” Claire nodded with a chuckle, rubbing Peter’s back. “But I stay up when Matt… goes on his walks at night. Just in case, you know?”  
  
“Is that what we’re calling them now? Walks?”  
  
“Yes,” Matt grumbled. “Especially in front of the _baby_. He’s functionally mute, not incapable of comprehension.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Anyway, since I was staying up until Matt got home _anyway_ , I kept taking his temperature every hour, just to check on it, because it was around a hundred when I gave him the bath and the Tylenol and it kept _going up_. Last check had it at one-oh-three and I said screw it and called Matt to tell him I was taking Peter to the hospital because that is _too high_.”  
  
The scratch of Claire’s pen. “And you said he’s been sniffly and wheezy?”  
  
“We adopted him back in August, and as far as we know he doesn’t have any allergies or anything, but it might’ve developed without us realizing?”  
  
“You adopted him in August, too?”  
  
“August tenth.”  
  
“… huh.” There was a world of unspoken commentary in that one syllable.  
  
“It’s a weird story.”  
  
Claire nodded again, obviously deciding to set her just as obvious questions aside. “Okay, I’ll put this in and get you guys into a room. Hang in there, _mijo_ , okay?”  
  
Peter shivered and nodded, snuffling miserably.  
  
It felt like it took forever to get them into a room, Claire leading Matt carefully through the halls as Foggy followed with Peter in his arms.  
  
“Okay, _mijo,_ I’m gonna take your temperature now, okay?”  
  
Peter nodded listlessly, and Matt clung to Foggy's arm, tight enough that he was probably hurting him. “Word?” he rasped, as Claire had her head bent close to him.  
  
“Which word? _Mijo_?” At Peter's nod, Claire finished snapping on a pair of fresh gloves. “It’s a Spanish term of endearment for a little boy. I'm gonna stick this in your ear, okay?” At Peter's nod again, Claire gently put the thermometer in his ear. “Hold still for me.”  
  
Foggy wrapped his arm around Matt and held him close. “You’re doing really well, Pete. It’s just like taking your temperature at home.”  
  
Matt’s head swiveled as someone came in, her stride quick and brusque. “I had no idea you did pediatrics, Nurse Temple,” she said, a faint southern lilt to her voice as she likewise snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.  
  
“I’m a family friend, Dr. Kendall, they asked me to help,” Claire said as the thermometer beeped. “Peter’s temperature is at 103.8, Doctor.”  
  
“Now what on _Earth_ has got you up so high, little one?” Dr. Kendall asked, lifting Peter's shirt to press her stethoscope to his chest. “Breathe as deep as you can for me, okay, peanut? Nice and slow, there we go.”  
  
Peter coughed on his inhale, awful, wet-sounding coughs that wracked his body. To Matt’s hearing, each one was an explosion. Dr. Kendall rubbed his back, making soothing noises and eventually - after what still seemed like an eternity - Peter’s coughing subsided. Matt’s fingernails were cutting crescents into his palms where he had his hands fisted on his knees and he burst out, “He’s been sniffly and wheezy for a few days but it didn’t seem serious, but I noticed Peter feeling warmer than normal so we gave him a warm bath and some children’s Tylenol and checked his temperature every hour while he slept because it kept going _up_ -”  
  
Dr. Kendall didn’t bother turning around to face this rush of words. “Uh huh. I don’t like the way his lungs sound. You his father?”  
  
“We both are - he’s adopted,” Foggy said, and the doctor hummed thoughtfully.  
  
“So asking your allergies and whatnot is gonna mean diddly-squat. Do you have a medical record for him?”  
  
“Yeah, right here - it has all his shots, but his birth parents hadn’t done any allergy tests yet-” Foggy pulled out the file that they had gotten from Peter’s previous pediatrician and handed it over. “There's also a record of his name change from when we adopted him in there, so you know that file is about the same kid.”  
  
Dr. Kendall nodded and hummed some more as she looked it over. “Well, your shots are up to date, peanut, so that's something. Nurse Temple, if you wouldn’t mind putting this information into the little one’s chart for me, I'd greatly appreciate it, thank you. And once you do that could you get some blood drawn and some throat swabs and send all that down to the lab on high priority? After that, get started on some standard fever-reducing procedures - when did you say his last dose of Tylenol was, Mr. Nelson-Murdock?”  
  
“Around ten-thirty,” Foggy said, clinging to Matt's arm like a lifeline.  
  
“Right, it’s around one now, so let's hold off on giving him another dose just yet, just focus on getting that fever down without it for now.” The doctor reached out and wrapped her surprisingly small hand around Matt’s wrist. “If Nurse Temple is a friend of yours, you know for a fact that your baby is in one of the best sets-a-hands at this hospital. I have a couple of other patients to see to right now, but I'll be right back as soon as that lab work gets done, okay? Y’all just set for a bit and let Nurse Temple do her thing.”  
  
“Right - thank you so much, Dr. Kendall.”  
  
“Nurse Temple, put him on a ventilator mask when you're done getting swabs - let's at least make it easier for him to breathe while we wait.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
Doctor Kendall walked out of the room with the stride of a woman on a mission, and Foggy squeezed Matt's hand.  
  
They were silent as Claire worked, getting Peter changed into a child-sized patient gown and hooking him up to a heart monitor, swabbing his throat and drawing his blood, all the while as Claire murmured softly to him. “You’re being so brave for me, _mijo_ , you’re doing so well. Hold still just a little longer, I’m almost done and then we’re going to find out what’s wrong.”  
  
Tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks as Claire finished and stuck a bandaid over the cotton swab, and Matt’s heart _ached_. “She gave him a bandaid that has little Captain America shields on it,” Foggy murmured to him as Claire wiped Peter’s nose and settled a ventilator mask over his face.  
  
“There. I’m gonna run these down to the lab, okay? There’re a couple of chairs in here for you two to sit in - I’m going to send someone in to get him some cold packs to help bring down the fever.”  
  
Matt wanted to hug her. “Claire… _thank you_.”  
  
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I’m just doing my job, Matt.”  
  
She walked out before breaking into an easy jog down the hall, and Foggy dragged a couple of chairs closer to Peter’s bed as Matt tucked him in.  
  
—  
  
Hospitals, Matt always thought, had a way of making five minutes seem like an eternity, filled with nothing but the sounds of the sick and the suffering. You were left alone in an uncomfortable bed with gowns and sheets like sandpaper, the air too cold and everyone around you smelling like stress and bad coffee and sickness and you had to listen to your father hissing outside your room about how he can’t pay for all this and the doctor shrug and tell him to take it up with his insurance, the entire conversation spoken in soft whispers that might as well have been screamed through a bullhorn right into your ears.  
  
Then again, maybe Matt just had had a bad experience.  
  
Another nurse had come in and arranged cold packs on Peter’s wrists with a brusqueness Matt didn’t really appreciate being directed at his son, and it was only Foggy’s hand on his arm that kept Matt in his seat, even though he gripped the arms of his chair so tightly the plastic creaked in ominous protest.  
  
Peter was asleep, still hot and wheezing as the heart monitor beeped. Foggy had fallen silent next to Matt, the third Harry Potter book in his lap seemingly forgotten as soon as he had closed it.  
  
He held Matt’s hand the entire time, Matt turning Foggy’s wedding ring with his thumb in a way that had to be irritating, but Foggy said nothing.  
  
The door cracked open, and Claire walked in. “Hey…”  
  
“Hi,” Foggy murmured. “Any word on those results?”  
  
“Not yet, but soon. I’m about to go on break, and I wanted to check in on you guys, see if you wanted to get something from the cafeteria.”  
  
Foggy shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m not hungry.”  
  
“Foggy-”  
  
“I’m not leaving this room,” Foggy said, and squeezed Matt’s hand. “You, however, should go eat with Claire. You have catching up to do. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be able to hear it if something happens.”  
  
Matt didn’t flinch at that, but it was a near thing. “... I’ll bring you back something.”  
  
“Mm. Go, you’re wasting Claire’s time for eating.”  
  
Matt got to his feet, using his cane to get to the door. “Shall we?”  
  
Claire looped her arm with his. “C’mon. I’m gonna get you the worst cup of coffee you’ve ever had in your life.”  
  
She wasn’t joking. Claire led him down to the hospital’s sparsely-populated cafeteria and bought him, along with a truly awful cup of coffee that rivaled even Karen’s worst, a sandwich and a cookie, then settled down across from him at the rickety table. “So. You’re married now?”  
  
Matt nodded, picking the crust of his sandwich for something to do. “It’s… complicated.”  
  
“Hit the high points.”  
  
And so Matt told her, about finding Peter and what he and Foggy had done to adopt him. It seemed so weird for it to be summed up so neatly, cutting out the sheer amount of emotional turmoil that was involved and boiling it down to “I found a toddler in a dumpster and decided to raise him as my own. Foggy married me so I could keep him.” It seemed inadequate, somehow.  
  
“You don’t do anything halfway, huh?” Claire asked after a long moment.  
  
“I guess not.”  
  
“… are you happy?”  
  
What a weird question. “What do you mean?”  
  
“With Foggy and Peter. Are you happy?”  
  
Was he? He woke up smiling in the mornings, and he guessed he was laughing more, his body feeling light and easy even when he ached after a night of being Daredevil. Matt supposed that qualified. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”  
  
“Because I haven’t seen you since before you got married. It seems like you’re being more careful out there.”  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I. I guess I’ve been trying to be more careful. Peter’s so smart, Claire, if I come back hurt and he didn’t see it happen, I’m worried what it will do to him.”  
  
Claire pressed her fingers together in front of her mouth. “Foggy mentioned he’s mute.”  
  
“For all intents and purposes, yeah, pretty much.” Matt ran a hand through his hair, feeling the now-familiar agitation. “You noticed he only whispered to you, right? I’ve never heard him raise his voice louder than that even before he got sick.”  
  
“And he’s been like that since you found him?”  
  
A lump settled itself in his throat and he struggled to swallow it down. “Yeah. I can only hope he recovers his voice eventually, for his own sake if nothing else. Until then, we’re giving him the tools he needs to get by now.”  
  
“The sign language classes.”  
  
“Yeah. It’s wrong and it’s terrible of me, but I can’t help but hope that one day he’ll just… start using his voice again and it will be like that night never happened to him.”  
  
“Like when you lost your eyesight?”  
  
The lid of his coffee cup popped off as Matt’s annoyance got the better of him. He eased his grip on the cup before any of it could spill on his hand. “That’s different.”  
  
Claire stole Matt’s cookie and broke it in half. “Is it? You think your Dad didn’t sit with you in the hospital and think ‘I hope his eyes heal and he’ll be able to see again and it’ll be like that accident never happened’?”  
  
“It’s not the same thing, Claire.” He bit into his sandwich, perhaps a bit more savagely than the poor thing deserved. “I didn’t watch anyone die that day.”  
  
“But Peter did. That’s always gonna stay with him, even if he does get his voice back, and you need to be prepared for that. PTSD does weird shit to people, to put it mildly.”  
  
Matt sighed as Claire crunched through her stolen half of cookie. “I’ll talk to Foggy.”  
  
“It’s a start.”  
  
There was a moment of silence and Matt rolled his coffee cup between his hands, chewing on his lower lip. “Hey, Claire…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Are you angry? That I didn’t tell you when I got married?”  
  
She tilted her head to the side. “Not really. I’d be pissed if you tried to rekindle a romance with me after not telling me you got married.”  
  
“Foggy and I don’t have-”  
  
“Matt. Shut up. I don’t care.”  
  
Matt blinked rapidly behind his glasses. “Shutting up.”  
  
“Eat your sandwich. I’ll go get some food for Foggy.”  
  
“Yes’m.” As Claire got to her feet to grab food for Foggy, Matt stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.  
  
Several floors above them, Foggy was singing softly to a sleeping Peter.  
  
—  
  
Peter, as it turned out, had somehow contracted a nasty strain of the flu that was doing its level best to turn into pneumonia.  
  
Peter also had developed several allergies and, according to Dr. Kendall, there was a very good chance Peter had developed asthma as well.  
  
“You just don’t like breathing, huh, kiddo?” Foggy asked Peter as they were told all this, and Peter made some sort of face at him that had Foggy snickering even hours afterward.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It was such a _you_ face, Matt!”  
  
Matt sighed. He didn’t even know what that meant, but if that was all the Murdock Peter got from him, Matt was fine with that.  
  
—  
  
Peter recovered from his battle with the flu and Karen posted a celebratory picture of him to the company Facebook page with the caption “Peter Nelson-Murdock, newest intern here at N&M, ready to rock his first day back after being sick! His phone skills still need work, but his filing is top notch!”  
  
The result of said picture was a voicemail from Marci that was almost twenty seconds of delighted cackling followed by “you assholes just made me _so much money_ ” before she hung up.  
  
After that, there was a sudden influx of gifts for Peter - just in time for his birthday - from their classmates at Columbia, most of them with cards that said something along the lines of “Marci gave us an ultimatum, and I’d rather you guys benefit from this than give that bitch the satisfaction. Congrats on the wedding, by the way.’”  
  
Matt made sure to send Marci a nice bottle of wine, and they never spoke about it again.  
  
—-  
  
It was nearing the end of October when their hard-earned routine was once again turned on its head.  
  
When Matt, Foggy, and Peter arrived to the office, Matt paused at the presence of a man in their conference room. He sat hunched in on himself with an old baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, curled around what Matt thought was a ratty backpack. There was also a hum of electronics, of a different pitch than the office equipment.  
  
"Karen? Who's in our conference room?" Matt asked, setting aside his cane near the door.  
  
"He wouldn't give me his name," she said as Peter walked past Matt and Foggy and over to his desk. "He just said he needed to talk to you guys, and since you didn't have any clients scheduled for this morning, I told him to wait in there for you."  
  
Foggy nodded. "Sure. Matt?"  
  
Matt nodded and curled his fingers tighter around Foggy's arm. "Time to earn our paychecks."  
  
“Or pie. I will accept pie in lieu of money.”  
  
“You heartless bastard.” Though somehow Matt doubted this guy had any pie to offer.  
  
They walked into the conference room and Matt put on his best reassuring smile as Foggy pulled out a chair for Matt. "Hi there. My name's Matt Murdock and this is my partner, Foggy Nelson. How can we help you today, Mister...?"  
  
"My, uh, my name is…” The man cleared his throat and swallowed hard, as if gearing himself up to provide this simple bit of information. Matt drew upright, a sense of alarm filtering through him as the man took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, more certain. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I think I need a lawyer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT.
> 
> :D 
> 
> Come hang out with me on my [tumblr!](http://amaronith.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the hill I chose to die on, Karen.”
> 
> “I thought that hill was Foggy eating that Limburger cheeseburger in the office.”
> 
> “The hill is covered in multiple smaller hills. It is a hill that contains multitudes.”
> 
> “...I think the metaphor is getting away from you, Matt.”
> 
> “A little bit, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooly shit you guys. I am so sorry this took so long. Life kind of ran up and kicked me in the stomach and ran away cackling gleefully as I made pathetic wheezing noises.
> 
> This chapter, ironically, was supposed to be much. much. longer. but in the end, I decided to split it and get this out before the new year started, because I felt like it wasn't fair to you guys to have to wait for it.
> 
> some notes before we begin: there's going to be dialogue marked off like so: -tada-
> 
> this is to indicated what is being said is in ASL and is being translated by Foggy. I felt it flowed better to simply have it denoted by something else then to constantly write "Peter signed and Foggy translated" over and over again. Thank you for your understanding.
> 
> this chapter has been edited by the lovely [fulldaysdrive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive), so you can all thank them for this chapter not being utter crap - if it is crap, it is my fault, not theirs.
> 
> enjoy, everyone!

Matt frowned. James Buchanan Barnes. That was a distinctive name. Everyone and their grandparents knew that name. But there was no way the person in front of them was the same man.  
  
Then again, if Captain America could show up again after being frozen for seventy years or so…?  
  
“Well, Mr. Barnes,” Foggy was saying, cool as a cucumber and just as level-headed. “Tell us the situation, and we’ll tell you if you need a lawyer.”  
  
“Sergeant. Sergeant Barnes. I… I served with the 107th in the US Army.”  
  
Matt rested his hand on Foggy’s wrist. “Sergeant, are you telling us that _you are_ Bucky Barnes? The same Bucky Barnes who was best friends with Steve Rogers, the man known as Captain America, until he fell to his death in 1945?”  
  
The man - Sergeant Barnes ( _Bucky Barnes, holy shit_ ) - nodded sharply. “I survived the fall from the train but was taken prisoner by HYDRA, and. And.” He clenched his jaw, and Matt could hear his teeth creaking ominously, and the faint, delicate whir and click of machinery parts as his left hand clenched in his pocket. “I have evidence. Of my torture. And the brainwashing.” He patted his backpack.  
  
“Brainwashing?”  
  
Barnes took a deep, steadying breath. “…I assume you know the story - about how Stevie rescued me and the others that would become the Howlies from that HYDRA base?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Foggy said. “It’s one of the most covered missions in American History.”  
  
“HYDRA had already started experimenting on me - some weird bastardization of what Erskine gave Stevie. It’s the only reason I survived the fall.”  
  
Matt reached out and turned on the recorder in the middle of the table. “Sergeant… why don’t we start from the beginning?”  
  
Foggy took notes as Barnes spoke - his voice flat and almost mechanical as he talked about the brainwashing and torture he had undergone in HYDRA’s custody, as if it all had happened to someone else. Matt supposed it was the only way he could talk about it, right now.  
  
“…why did you come to us, Sergeant?” Foggy asked once Barnes had finished telling them his story.  
  
“You’re clean - no connections to HYDRA at all.” Barnes took a deep breath, voice shaking. “And… I broke my programming, but HYDRA made me kill an awful lot of people when they had me brainwashed, and some people might want me to answer for that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to, but not without a fight. I wanna come _home_ , Mr. Nelson. You know what it’s like, to _want_ something for yourself after seventy years of not being able to? Not just not being allowed, being _able_. I picked your firm because of the thing with Fisk, because you’re _good_. I’ve been watching you guys for a couple of months, now. You’re not just good lawyers, but good _people_. I know that if I lose, it won’t be because you didn’t try. You’ll make it _fair_.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “… anything else you want us to know?”  
  
Barnes shrugged the shoulder that didn’t have the metal arm attached to it. “Nothing that pertains to my case.”  
  
‘He knows,’ Matt thought, gripping the table. ‘ _He knows_.’ “One moment, please, Sergeant, so that my partner and I can discuss this?”  
  
“Take your time, Mr. Murdock. Mr. Nelson. It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be.”  
  
Matt got to his feet, amazed that he was as steady as he was, and gripped Foggy’s arm tight as they walked out and Foggy lead Matt into Matt’s office and closed the door. “He knows.”  
  
“If he’s been watching us? Yeah, guaranteed he knows.” Foggy took a deep breath, wrapping his hands around Matt’s upper arms. “That’s something to talk about later. Right now - Matt, are we taking this case? Is he telling the truth?”  
  
“I thought you didn’t want me listening to people’s hearts.”  
  
“ _Matthew_ ,” Foggy admonished, half a sigh of resignation and half a snap of irritation. “If that guy is who he says he is, if he’s telling the truth about everything, this will be the biggest case of our careers. Bigger than Fisk. And more than that, if he is telling the truth? Then that man in there is still in desperate need of our help, big time case or not.”  
  
“Then why didn’t he go to Rogers?” Matt countered, gripping Foggy’s elbows. “Why not go to Rogers, who is friends with Stark, who has a very massive, very expensive legal team that can do this?”  
  
“… he said it himself, Matt. He wanted us. _He chose us_. This was one of the first decisions he’s been able to make for himself for the first time in over seventy _years_ , Matt. Something tells me that if he went to Rogers and Stark, he wouldn’t have much of a choice at all. Between you and me, Cap seems kinda bossy.”  
  
Matt couldn’t help the snort. “Yeah, okay, I guess that’s bound to happen when you’re a great American Hero used to leading armies or whatever, never mind that Stark is a rich asshole used to getting his way.” Matt shook his head. “… you really wanna take this case?”  
  
“I’m amazed that I have to talk you into it so hard, actually.”  
  
After a long moment, Matt nodded, and gave Foggy’s elbows a final squeeze before letting his hands drop. “Let’s go tell our client.”  
  
“You never answered me, Matt.”  
  
Matt paused at the door, head tilted. “Hm?”  
  
“Is he telling the truth?”  
  
“Oh - yeah. Or, at least, he believes he is.”  
  
Foggy let out an explosive sigh. “Right. Let’s go.”  
  
—  
  
Barnes was sitting with Karen and Peter when Matt and Foggy came back into the conference room, a cup of Karen’s coffee at his right hand and a crayon in his left. “Well, Sergeant Barnes, we are definitely taking your case.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“You said you had proof, right? About what had been done to you?”  
  
Barnes nodded, handing the crayon back to Peter before Karen scooped up the toddler and escorted him out with a gentle touch to Barnes’s shoulder. “Yeah - documents in the original Russian and German, and all translations.”  
  
“We’ll have to get them translated again by an independent translator, just to make sure,” Foggy was saying as he led Matt to a chair. “But Matt and I will go over them as well.”  
  
“Do you have a safe place to stay, Sergeant?” Matt asked. “From what you told us, you don’t seem to settle in one place for too long.”  
  
That seemed to give Barnes pause. “… I. Uh. Not really, no.”  
  
Matt nodded. “Then we’ll find you someplace to stay for now, maybe a hotel, or-”  
  
“I’m still paying rent on my old apartment until the lease runs out, Matt - it’s a temporary measure, but it is better than nothing for now, right?” Foggy said, looking between Matt and Barnes. “We have to get started on your case, so if there’s anything else you need to get, Matt will go with you to get it and you’ll come back here until we head off for the day.”  
  
Barnes ran his flesh hand through his hair. “I - thank you for this. Thank you so much. I know it sounds crazy, but-”  
  
“Sergeant, a few years ago the sky opened up and aliens invaded New York. An alien prince once worshiped as a god, a man who was frozen in the forties, two government assassins, a multi-billionaire in a fancy tin can, and a guy who turns into a giant green monster saved the city. You being a brainwashed Soviet Nazi assassin? Not the weirdest shit on the block anymore.”  
  
Barnes let out a weak laugh. “I, uh, I guess you have a point with that.”  
  
“Leave the stuff you’ve gathered with me - I’ll fill Karen in on the case and she and I will get started while you and Matt go to get the rest of whatever you have stashed somewhere and bring it to my old apartment and I’ll meet you there.”  
  
Barnes nodded and he stood, though his hand spasmed when he moved away from his backpack. “I-”  
  
“You just need to leave the files. Anything else in there you can take with you,” Matt said, keeping his voice kind. From the sound of it, what was left of Barnes’s entire life was in that bag. If it were Matt, he wouldn’t want to let go of it either.  
  
Barnes nodded jerkily and left the files on the table, slipping the backpack on and clipping it together in the center of his chest. “I just have one other bag of stuff, but none of it is important.”  
  
“We’ll still go get it and bring it to Foggy's old place,” Matt said as he reached for his cane by the door. “On the way there we’ll talk more.”  
  
“I. Yeah.”  
  
They walked in silence until they were out of the building, and Matt reached out with one hand to tap Barnes’s arm with the backs of his fingers. “May I?”  
  
“Huh? Oh. Guiding, right?”  
  
“Mm. Better camouflage for you.” They started walking again, Barnes keeping an easy, mellow pace, and now that Matt was listening for it, he had been hearing the sound of Barnes’s arm for a while now. He just thought it was some new appliance a neighbor had gotten.  
  
How irritating.  
  
“...So. You’re actually blind.”  
  
“Mmhmm. From an accident when I was nine.”  
  
“Yeah. I mean - I researched you. Your husband, too. Why didn’t you change names when you got married? Hyphenate like your kid?”  
  
“To tell you the truth, Sergeant? We were too cheap to change the sign.”  
  
Barnes snorted. “That… yeah, I can understand that. Gotta provide for your kid, you know?”  
  
“Mm. ...So what did you find, in your research?”  
  
“...this is about that Devil guy, huh?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“I ain’t gonna say anything just yet. Too public to have that sort of conversation. But he does good work. A real _servant of the people_.” Matt snorted as he could hear Barnes grin at him. “... The fact that you are… close, did have something to do with me picking your firm. You’d have back up if HYDRA attacked.”  
  
“You said you cleared the city.”  
  
“I did, but they're like cockroaches. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt your kid again.”  
  
Matt stopped walking. “... _again?_ ” he asked, low and half growling.  
  
Bucky was quiet for a long moment before he breathed out slowly. “I have something to tell you. About your kid. And HYDRA.”  
  
They weren't far from the office. They could turn right back around and meet with Foggy and Karen and call Brett because _oh God Nazis were after his baby_.  
  
“Sergeant-”  
  
“This way. Curb. We’re crossing,” Bucky said, stepping down into the street as Matt's cane dropped over the edge of the curb. “We’re not far. Your partner is meeting us at his place, right? Why does he have a place if you guys are married?”  
  
Matt felt distant and far away as he answered. “It was cheaper in the long run to just keep paying rent on the apartment than it was to break the lease.”  
  
What the _hell_ was going on?  
  
\---  
  
The bag Bucky had left in the tiny apartment he was staying in (it couldn’t be called an apartment, not really, not when the damn room was barely ten feet across and the only thing resembling a bathroom was the toilet in the corner and the sink next to it) was mostly filled with weapons, a spare set of clothes, and a small bag of plums.  
  
The walk to Foggy's old apartment from there had been quick and it was a relief to hear Foggy's heartbeat waiting for them outside of the apartment, chatting with his old neighbors.  
  
“There they are - hey Matty.”  
  
“The man who stole our Foggy from us,” Foggy's neighbor joked. Matt recognized her voice - Mrs. Peplinski, who owned the building and often asked Foggy for help with repairs since if Foggy couldn’t do the work himself, he usually knew someone who could. “How are you, Matthew? Foggy tells me you two adopted a little boy?”  
  
‘ _Yes_ ,’ Matt wanted to say. ‘ _Foggy and I adopted a wonderful little boy and Nazis want him dead._ ’  
  
“Yeah - his name is Peter.”  
  
“I’ll show you so many pictures later, Mrs. P, I promise, but actually I want to introduce you to James - he’s gonna be staying in the apartment until my lease is up.”  
  
The landlady hummed, looking Bucky up and down. “You any good with plumbing?”  
  
“I, uh, I used to be, but it’s been a while. I’m a fast learner, though.”  
  
“Good enough. I’ll let you boys get to it, then. Nice meeting you, James.”  
  
“You too, ma’am.”  
  
“I want those pictures, Foggy!”  
  
“You got it, Mrs. P!” They waited until she had shuffled into her apartment before Foggy turned to them. “Ready to check out your new abode, Sergeant?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
Foggy opened the door to his apartment and handed the keys to Bucky. “Here we are! There are fresh sheets on the bed and some staples in the cupboards, but we’ll get you some milk and eggs from the bodega before we head back to the office-”  
  
“Foggy, Nazis want to kill Peter!” Matt blurted out, clutching at his arm.  
  
Foggy stared at Matt. “What?”  
  
“HYDRA is after Peter!”  
  
Bucky sighed. “Not anymore, Mr. Murdock, I told you you have nothing to worry about.”  
  
_Nothing to worry about?_ Matt wanted to punch him.  
  
“ _Excuse me?_ ” Foggy said, his voice calm and cold in a way Matt had only heard once before, back in law school with a particularly ableist teacher, and the sound of it only fed the flames of Matt’s own fury, even as it calmed Matt down. Foggy was just as angry as Matt was, and that meant Foggy wouldn’t stop him when Matt launched himself over to beat this man to a pulp, ninety-eight year old American war hero or not. “Care to explain that?”  
  
Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Your son was originally Peter Parker, son of Richard and Mary Parker.”  
  
“Yes, we know,” Matt snapped, and Foggy pinched his side.  
  
“They were SHIELD agents who stole documents that revealed the presence of HYDRA inside the SHIELD organization,” Bucky continued as though Matt hadn’t spoken. “They hid the documents in the lining of their son’s diaper bag and left them, and their son, with Richard’s brother Ben and his wife May. Richard and Mary confronted Alexander Pierce about the corruption in SHIELD, and Pierce had them tortured and killed, then disguised their deaths in a plane crash. In the fall out of what happened in DC, it apparently took the HYDRA agent assigned to find said documents some time to find Ben and May Parker. But he did, and then he killed them and took the bag, and decided the child was a non-entity in the equation.”  
  
Bucky’s voice had taken on that robotic quality again and Matt was shaking with his fury. Foggy was still with his. “And how do you know all this?”  
  
Matt could hear the slide of Barnes’s hair as he tilted his head. “Because I killed the agent who did it. In August, when I raided a nearby HYDRA safe house, looking for information on me. He had some, and after a small amount of torture, he spilled _everything_. As though it would save him.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say something before? Come to us with this after it happened?”  
  
“I didn't want you to think I was trying to bribe, or blackmail, you into taking my case. The info about your kid - that I figured you’d want to know anyway, no matter what. For closure, if nothing else. I know the cops knew the Parkers were connected to SHIELD, and after everything in DC… I figured you’d want to be able to say to your kid his birth parents were heroes, if he asked. They were never HYDRA. They tried to fix it.”  
  
Matt let out a slow breath. “Right. I… right.”  
  
“Sergeant, why don’t you go get settled in and Matt and I will wait right here to bring you back to the office?” Foggy laced his fingers with Matt’s as Bucky nodded and walked through the apartment. “Matt, _what the hell?!_ ” Foggy hissed once Bucky was in the bedroom.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Nazis!”  
  
“ _I know._ ”  
  
“And you are ready to punch him in the face.”  
  
Matt frowned. “Can you really blame me?”  
  
“ _Matthew._ ”  
  
“It’s less that I want to punch him and more…” Matt sighed. “… I’m worried. About what he found out about Peter.”  
  
Foggy shook his hair back. “Yeah, well, I know that I actually feel a little better about being able to tell him that the person who hurt his aunt and uncle won’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again. Who knows, maybe he’ll start talking more.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“I think he’s been scared. He said May is the reason he doesn't talk, remember? And you're never gonna convince me she abused him, so it has something to do with what happened that night. So maybe, just maybe, once he knows the guy who killed them is never gonna hurt anyone again, he’ll feel less terrified of making noise.”  
  
“That’ll be nice,” Matt sighed heavily.  
  
“Family meeting tonight before supper?”  
  
“Might be better after supper, before story time.”  
  
Foggy nodded as Bucky stepped out of the bedroom. “Ready to go, Sergeant?”  
  
“As I’ll ever be.”  
  
“Awesome, let’s get back.”  
  
The walk back to the office shouldn’t have been as comfortably silent as it was.  
  
Unfortunately, it left Matt with a lot of time to think about things.  
  
\---  
  
The rest of the day passed in a blur, Matt, Foggy, and Karen going over everything with Bucky as Peter colored in the corner. At the end of the day, Karen offered to walk Bucky back to Foggy’s old apartment (which Bucky had accepted with a slight flirtatious tone, and Karen nearly choked on her own laughter when Matt made motions of ‘I’m watching you’ at Bucky who, Foggy assured him, looked suitably cowed for all that he was grinning), and Foggy and Matt walked back home with an oddly subdued Peter between them.  
  
“You okay there, Pete?”  
  
-You have something you want to talk about.-  
  
Matt winced as Foggy translated. “Are we that obvious?”  
  
-You kept checking on me. Papa watched me a lot.-  
  
Sometimes Matt hated having a child so smart. “We were going to wait until after supper to talk about it with you.”  
  
-Why?-  
  
“Well, we don't know how you’ll react. It’s good news,” Foggy said quickly, patting Peter reassuringly on the head. “But it's also kind of upsetting.”  
  
-Tell me now?- Peter signed and Matt gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  
  
“When we get home, okay?”  
  
-Okay. Can we have biryani for supper?-  
  
(What Peter had actually signed was his sign for Mrs. Ranasinghe - two R’s tapping the corners of his eyes because she, supposedly, has the most stunning shade of gold as her eye color - who owned their favorite Indian take out restaurant. She had come to Matt and Foggy's firm because of some trumped up health code violations and had paid them in biryani, and Peter had fallen in love with her cooking.)  
  
“Sure, we’ll place an order when we get home, okay?”  
  
Peter squeezed Matt’s fingers and pressed his grin to Matt’s palm.  
  
\--  
  
Once they had gotten into the apartment and placed their order for supper (“Tell Peter I say hello, would you, Mr. Nelson?”), the three of them sat on the couch, Peter in between them.  
  
“Peter, what we have to tell you is about your Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Do you remember them?”  
  
Peter had gone stiff at the mention of their names, and pressed against Matt’s side as he nodded slowly.  
  
Foggy took a deep breath. “The man who hurt them, who killed them? We know who he was.”  
  
Peter was trembling, and Matt hugged him tighter to his side. “Peter, we’re telling you this because we wanted to tell you that he is never going to be able to hurt anyone ever again. He is gone, and never coming back.”  
  
Peter hands were trembling as he signed to Foggy. -Promise?-  
  
“Yeah, bud. We promise.”  
  
Peter let out an agonized noise, like it was being ripped from his body against his will, as he clutched at Matt’s wrist and pressed his face into Foggy's chest.  
  
Matt shifted closer, gathering Peter and Foggy into a tight hug as Peter sobbed, practically howling his grief into Foggy's chest, Foggy hugging Peter back and kissing his hair, slowly getting Peter's inhaler from his pocket.  
  
They stayed just like that until the food arrived.  
  
Peter ate in silence, still sniffling as he watched Foggy shred the lamb chunks in his biryani. Peter ate about half his usual portion before pushing his plate away and resting his head on the table.  
  
Matt reached out his hand to Peter. “Hey Peter?”  
  
Peter reached out and held Matt’s hand, not lifting his head.  
  
“Mrs. Ranasinghe sent us some extra gulabjaman for dessert, do you want some?”  
  
Peter moved Matt's hand, lifting his head only enough to get Matt’s hand under his forehead before he shook his head no against Matt’s palm.  
  
“Do you want to watch some videos?”  
  
Another head shake.  
  
Matt let out a slow breath. “Want to get into your PJs and we can snuggle and read for a bit before bed?”  
  
A nod.  
  
“Can Papa give you a bath before we do that?”  
  
Another nod.  
  
“Okay,” Foggy murmured, running his fingers through Peter's hair. “Daddy and I are gonna finish eating first, okay?” A nod. “You gonna just sit there with your head down while we eat?” Nod. “Okay. Love you, Petenut butter.”  
  
Peter lifted his hand weakly to sign ‘I love you’ back, before moving his head from Matt's hand back down onto the table.  
  
Matt didn’t need to see to know that Foggy was giving him a worried look.  
  
Once he and Foggy had finished eating and Foggy had taken Peter into the bathroom for bath time, Matt could feel the Devil pushing to be let out, to hit something, anything.  
  
Instead, he took a deep breath, packed up the leftovers from dinner, and washed the dishes. And the pots that he had already washed. And wiped down the counters.  
  
When Peter came out of the bath, dressed in the softest PJs he had, Foggy carried him over to the bookshelf. “Okay, pick what you want to read before bed.” There was a moment of silence and then “...you want one of Daddy’s books?” A nod. “...okay. Hey Daddy?”  
  
Matt wiped his hands on the kitchen towel. “Yes, Papa?”  
  
“He wants you to read your Thurgood Marshall book with him.”  
  
How had Peter even found that book on the shelf in the first place? “...yeah, okay. I can do that.”  
  
Peter sat pressed against his side as Matt read to him, face resting on Matt’s chest as he listened to him read. -Daddy?-  
  
“Hm? What is it, Pete?”  
  
-I don't want to be afraid anymore.-  
  
Matt frowned. “...Have you been scared this whole time, Peter?” A nod. “Since when?”  
  
-Always.-  
  
Matt set the book aside, hauling Peter into his lap and kissing his hair. “We can work on you not being scared, okay? If you get scared, you can come to me or Papa, do you remember? We will always make time for you if you are scared. Okay, can you remember that for me?”  
  
Peter nodded, sniffling.  
  
“Do you think you’re ready for bed?” Foggy asked, voice gentle as he came out of the bedroom.  
  
Peter shrugged.  
  
“Okay, can you try to sleep? Just for a little bit?” Matt kissed his hair again. “Sleep might help you feel better.”  
  
“Like the human version of 'turning it off and back on again.’” Peter must’ve given Foggy a confused look because Foggy chuckled and bent to kiss Peter’s forehead. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I’ll explain it when you have more mental energy. You are like a limp noodle.” Peter sniffled, but lifted his arms and let Foggy put him to bed.  
  
That night, Matt poured all his rage and grief into punching the criminal underbelly of Hell’s Kitchen. It didn't do much to help Peter, all things considered, but it made Matt feel better.  
  
Sort of.  
  
\---  
  
Bucky was in the office with Karen waiting for them the next morning and Peter crept closer to him, heart hummingbird fast.  
  
-Was it you?-  
  
“Huh? What’s up, _Malyutka_?”  
  
“Mal-what-kah?” Foggy asked, about to sip his coffee as he leaned against Karen’s desk.  
  
“ _Malyutka_. Little one, in Russian.”  
  
“Ah. He’s, asking if it was you.”  
  
“Was what me?” Bucky turned to Peter. “Was what me?”  
  
-Dealing with the Bad Man. Was it you?-  
  
Matt held his breath when Foggy translated that.  
  
“...the bad man?”  
  
-Who hurt Aunt May and Uncle Ben.-  
  
Matt’s blood froze in his veins. ‘ _Oh God. Oh God, no._ ’  
  
Foggy’s grip on the coffee mug was tight enough that Matt could hear the ceramic start to crack.  
  
Bucky took a deep breath. “Yes, _Malyutka_. I made it so he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”  
  
Peter’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, not even a whisper. He took a deep breath as he closed it, and instead signed 'thank you.’  
  
And then Peter promptly burst into tears again, much quieter than the agonized wails of last night, and Bucky sank to his knees in front of Peter and pulled him into a careful hug.  
  
Matt gripped his cane so hard he could hear his bones creak in his hands, and he was positive that Karen and Foggy were sharing a look of some kind, but all he could focus on was his son, sobbing into the chest of Bucky Barnes, who murmured soothingly into his hair.  
  
Maybe this was what Peter needed, what Matt couldn’t provide for him: reassurance from the source that Peter’s tormentor was gone for good.  
  
‘ _Peter needs this,_ ’ he thought to himself, almost viciously stamping down on the strange, jealous bile that he felt rising in his chest. ‘ _This isn’t about you. Peter needs this._ ’  
  
He had always known he wasn’t ever going to be what Peter needed beyond a place to call home, but knowing was different from having his nose rubbed in it.  
  
Matt went into his office and shut the door.  
  
(Later, Peter came into his office, all cried out, and climbed into Matt’s lap as Matt worked, content to tuck his face against Matt’s throat as Matt shifted to read one handed, his other hand coming up to pet Peter’s hair.  
  
Maybe he didn’t need to be everything for Peter, as long as he could be this.)  
  
\--  
  
After that, Bucky seemed to take it on himself to watch out for Peter when Matt and Foggy weren’t around, or were busy in the office. For all that Karen loved to look after Peter, it still was not her _actual_ job, and having someone around to keep Peter busy while the three of them worked was a boon Matt and Foggy were not too proud to accept. Peter taught Bucky ASL as Bucky, apparently, taught Peter Russian.  
  
What had surprised Matt, however, was how _Bucky_ seemed to be doing better from spending time with Peter, too. The robotic quality was leaving his voice, replaced more by his Brooklyn drawl.  
  
(“He sounds so old timey!” Karen had giggled.  
  
“Have you ever actually been to Brooklyn?”  
  
“Not past Williamsburg, why?”  
  
“That is exactly how they sound there. The slang’s a little different, but that accent is one hundred percent Brooklyn.”  
  
“Huh. Good to know.”)  
  
Karen and Foggy hadn't been surprised by this, stating that Peter 'simply has that effect on people.’  
  
“I mean, he did it for you, too.”  
  
“What?” Matt frowned at Karen as she handed him his coffee cup.  
  
“You smile more, now, even if you're alone in your office. And you’re being more careful taking out the trash and crossing the street.”  
  
_Out and about being Daredevil_ , Matt mentally filled in, since Karen didn't know the truth about Matt’s previous injuries. “I guess so.”  
  
“He’s a good kid, and he thinks you and Foggy hung the moon.”  
  
“You’re buttering me up for something, Karen.”  
  
Karen hunched her shoulders, tucking her hair behind her ears. “He’s started calling him ‘Uncle Bucky’. Foggy isn’t discouraging this, but what happens when this case is over? Bucky might not stick around and I don’t want Peter to get hurt again-”  
  
“Karen,” Matt set his coffee aside and took her hands in his. “I understand where you’re coming from with this, but I agree with Foggy. It’s not going to help anyone if we try to keep Bucky and Peter away from each other. Bucky’s been helping Peter in a way that Foggy, or you, or I, or Brett couldn't. _Peter_ needs this. And you’ve said it yourself, Bucky’s been improving too. Why take that from them?”  
  
“...you’re right. You’re right. I’m being silly.”  
  
“Or you’re feeling exactly like I’m feeling, which is ‘noooo he’s miiiine go awaaaaaaaaay’.”  
  
Karen snorted at Matt’s put-on whine, sniffling a bit as she squeezed his hands. “....kinda, yeah.”  
  
“I felt the same way about Foggy when we were in college, too,” Matt admitted, sheepish. “He was the first friend I ever really had, and I didn’t want to share him. So I… might have sabotaged a couple of parties.” An entire _year’s_ worth of parties, but Karen didn’t need to know that.  
  
“ _Matt_ ,” Karen gasped dramatically, sniffling between weak and watery giggles as Matt pulled her into a careful hug.  
  
“I pulled the ‘Foggy, it’s loud and there are too many smells’ card a lot - I mean, it was true, because college parties are awful until you’re at least forty percent sloshed anyway. But he never complained about leaving, never once said ‘okay, you can get back to the dorm on your own’. He just was like ‘okay, we’ll head out of here and get burgers or something’.”  
  
“...so what you’re saying is you became okay with Foggy being friends with other people because you knew you were his favorite?” Karen mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Which is why you hate Marci.”  
  
Matt frowned. “Who says I hate Marci?”  
  
“Matt, you aren’t subtle. You frown every time Foggy mentions her - well, at least before you put a ring on him, anyway.”  
  
“I don’t hate Marci!” Matt protested as Karen pulled away. “I don’t! We’re just… a little too much alike to get along. And I can only admit that because Foggy can’t hear me admit that he was right.”  
  
Matt assumed Karen was giving him a look from the way she tilted her head. “...Foggy can’t know that he was right about why you and Marci don’t get along?”  
  
Matt straightened his tie. “This is the hill I chose to die on, Karen.”  
  
Karen blew her nose with a loud, inelegant _honk_. “I thought that hill was Foggy eating that Limburger cheeseburger in the office.”  
  
“The hill is covered in multiple smaller hills. It is a hill that contains multitudes.”  
  
“...I think the metaphor is getting away from you, Matt.”  
  
“A little bit, yeah,” Matt laughed. “Still, Karen, we need to learn how to let him love other people who are not us.”  
  
“...because we’ll always be his favorites?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I wish you had told me this before I told Bucky Barnes that I’m going to fight him.”  
  
Matt blinked. Oh dear. “...if it makes you feel better, I’d put my money on you in that fight.”  
  
Karen kissed his cheek. “It does, thank you Matt.”  
  
“I feel like you are taking the wrong lesson from this conversation, Karen-”  
  
“I have to get back to work, Matt!” Karen called over she shoulder as she opened the door to his office. “My boss is a real hardass about this sort of thing!”  
  
“Karen, do not fight Bucky-!”  
  
“Too late, I am already fighting him.”  
  
Matt sighed as Karen closed the door behind her, squeezing the bridge of his nose before fixing his glasses and sitting back down at his desk.  
  
When Foggy came back to the office, he stopped in the doorway with a bitten back laugh. “...I don’t _actually_ want to know, do I?”  
  
“I had to assert my dominance as Favorite Non-Parent Adult, Foggy,” Karen said primly.  
  
“I _just said_ I didn’t want to know.”  
  
“Matt said I could fight him!”  
  
Foggy ran his hand through his hair. “Somehow I doubt that.”  
  
“I won, by the way.”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
Bucky sighed heavily. “Can I take this off now, Karen?”  
  
“No. You must continue to wear the Black Ring Of Shame until the end of the workday.”  
  
Later, after Peter had been put to bed, Foggy described the scene to Matt over dish soap and running water as they washed the dishes from dinner - Karen with the plastic crown on her head accented beautifully by the up-do she had styled her hair in that day, Peter wearing the red and blue plastic jewelry (three of the earrings going up his left ear and one on his right nostril, which had Karen wiping them all clean with a tissue and some hand sanitizer before putting them away. Apparently it had been a good look on Peter) with solemn dignity as he colored in a picture, and Bucky Barnes, with the black plastic ring that apparently meant you lost the game sitting just past the first knuckle on the pinky of his flesh hand.  
  
“You didn’t actually tell Karen she could fight Bucky, did you?”  
  
“I told her that my money was on her winning the fight, but I did not give her permission nor encouragement, if that’s what you mean.”  
  
“I figured as much,” Foggy sighed, shaking his head. “Did you seriously lie about not having a good time at those parties in college because you were trying to friend cockblock me?”  
  
“I have to go,” Matt said, putting down the towel he was using to dry the dishes in a panic. “I - there is crime. Being done. I have to go punch it.”  
  
“Matthew, you cannot use crime as an excuse to get out of this conversation.”  
  
“Sorry, I cannot hear you over all the crime I need to punch in the face!”  
  
“This isn’t over!”  
  
When Matt left that night, it was to Foggy’s laughter.  
  
\---  
  
When the lease ran out on Foggy’s old apartment, it hadn’t seemed like any trouble to offer Bucky their couch.  
  
“I. What?”  
  
“Our couch is pretty comfortable, but you’ll have to respect Peter’s bedtime rituals.”  
  
Bucky was still for a long moment. “… you sure you trust me around your kid that much?”  
  
“You said you broke your programming, right? And that you took care of the HYDRA cell that was still in the city?”  
  
“All of them, yeah.”  
  
“And you’ve been fine around him, right?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“There you go, then,” Foggy said, and Matt could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve been doing better, too, haven’t you?”  
  
Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Not so great at night, admittedly.”  
  
“We’ll help you, Bucky, it’ll be okay. We’ll sit down and have a talk with Peter about respecting boundaries and if you stay not to touch you he can’t touch you - it’ll be good for him, too, we do tend to kind of stomp all over his boundaries. He needs to know he can tell us he doesn’t want to be touched - if he doesn’t, indeed, want to be - and that we’ll respect that with no repercussions.”  
  
“ _Especially_ after the fiasco at Thanksgiving,” Matt muttered darkly. The less said about what had happened at the holiday, the better. Matt was just grateful Bess had taken Peter somewhere quiet with Enid and Karen so Peter could calm down as Foggy and Brett (and Anna and Frank) read the various cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles the riot act, and - in what had to be a stroke of cosmic irony - Matt had been tagged by Candance to sit with James and explain how hitting people, even in defense of your most precious baby cousin (James’s words, not Matt’s), was not the right way to handle a situation.  
  
Bucky nodded. “I… yeah, thanks. But this is just temporary, okay? I’ll look for a place on my own.”  
  
“And in the meantime, you crash on our couch and hopefully Peter's nightmares won't wake you up too often. Or Matt’s… night time walks.”  
  
Bucky nodded again, running his flesh hand through his hair. “Sure. Sure thing.”  
  
“Awesome - I’m sure Peter's going to be so excited that you're staying!”  
  
And for all that it should’ve been awkward, it wasn't. Bucky was a good roommate (and a better cook - he had been appalled at how much take out they ate and started heading home from the office early every day to get a head start on dinner, sometimes taking Peter with him when being stuck in the office was starting to make him fussy) and for all that he and Peter shared a room, Peter’s space was walled off with decorative screens and a beaded curtain strung up to serve as a door, and Bucky liked to go out on the roof when he wanted to be alone, which worked out for everyone, really.  
  
And when it came time to put Peter to bed, and Matt chased away the monsters with his cane, Bucky chimed in with “All clear. Boss. You got’em.”  
  
And sometimes, late at night, when Matt was woken up from Peter’s nightmares, before he could even get out of bed he heard Bucky’s voice, scratchy with sleep and disuse, sing softly to Peter about a fedora and a bonnet who were in love.  
  
(Some nights, it wasn’t enough, and that’s when Matt and Foggy came out, or Bucky escorted Peter to their bedroom to knock gently on the door, and Peter would climb into bed with them, cuddled up under their blankets between them as Bucky shuffled into the kitchen to make himself some tea.  
  
Some nights, Peter slept through the night, but Matt still heard Bucky wake up gasping and heading to the roof, pacing back and forth as he mumbled under his breath the date and location, Matt and Foggy and Peter’s names. “You live with them. You’re free. You’re gonna be okay. HYDRA’s gone. You’re not going back. HYDRA’s gone.”)  
  
And then Steve Fucking Rogers showed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! I'll see you next year! Be safe, my lovelies.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, Sam. You were right. I was wrong. I should have listened to you from the start.”
> 
> “I’m gonna need you to say that again so I can record it and make it my ringtone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say I am equal parts delighted and surprised by the amount of Steve-dislike going on, haha! I love Steve and Tony, but Matt and Foggy don't know the things we do about them!
> 
> Hopefully this chapter answers more questions than the last one.
> 
> Thanks for copy-editing goes to [torrential](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential), who is amazing and wonderful, and I also wanna give a shout out to [fulldaysdrive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive) who has been my unending cheerleader in writing this story. 
> 
> Enjoy, everyone!

It had started with a strange heartbeat entering the building.  
  
“... you hear something,” Bucky murmured to him as they stood in the kitchen together, Bucky cutting up vegetables as Matt set up the rice cooker (a late wedding present from Candace and her husband - who then showed Matt how to measure the water for rice with his hand. “My grandmother swears by this method of making rice,” Keith had said with a chuckle. “And since she's been alive since before South Korea was even a thing, I figure she knows what she's talking about.”)  
  
“Mm,” Matt frowned. “Weird heartbeat coming up the steps.”  
  
“It’s Steve,” Bucky said, voice still low. “He had a limp when he was… before. I don't think he realizes he still compensates for it on the stairs. But it’s Steve. Steve and… and I don't know the other one with him. I think… I think he flew?”  
  
Matt tried to run through the list of people Steve Rogers hung out with who had been known to fly.  
  
If Tony Stark was coming up his steps, Matt wasn't sure if he could stop himself from punching him.  
  
“Hey, Pete, can you do me a favor?” Matt called over his shoulder as he got the rice cooker going. “Can you go read in your room until dinner? You’re not in trouble, I just need to know you’re in a safe place, okay?”  
  
“He says okay,” Foggy called back, helping Peter down off the stool and handing Peter's book to him as Peter headed into his room. Foggy came over to Matt, leaning in close. “What's going on?”  
  
“Bucky and I are pretty sure Steve Rogers and someone else are coming up the stairs. I’m not expecting trouble, but I want Peter safe if there is.”  
  
Foggy cursed softly under his breath. “Are you okay, Bucky?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean… I’m not actually fine, but I’m fine.”  
  
“It is only all my years of knowing Matt that that sentence even makes any sense,” Foggy said with a sigh, and Bucky snorted as Matt scowled. “Stop with the face, Matt. You know as well as I do that 'fine’ is the most meaningless word in your vocabulary. You’ve said you were fine after being _stabbed_.”  
  
Matt hunched his shoulders as Bucky turned to look at him. “I was only a _little_ stabbed.”  
  
Foggy sighed again and squeezed Matt’s arm. “Of course you were, sweetheart.”  
  
Matt’s pulse leapt at the endearment, and he did his best to focus all of his attention on putting away the rice, hoping no one noticed his blush as Foggy walked away.  
  
“It's cute that he can still get you to blush with pet names,” Bucky said with a chuckle, and Matt groaned.  
  
“Oh, shut up, Barnes,” he muttered darkly, just as Rogers's footsteps stopped in front of Matt’s door, and there was a firm knock.  
  
“... Matt?” Foggy said, soft and nervous.  
  
“I’ll get it,” Matt said, carefully cheerful, and gave Bucky’s arm a squeeze.  
  
“Be careful, Matty,” Foggy murmured as he passed, and Foggy headed into the kitchen to shoo Bucky to the couch.  
  
Matt opened the door, keeping his face perfectly neutral. “Hello?”  
  
There was a long, awkward pause.  
  
Rogers smelled like coffee, stress, and boot polish. The other man with him smelled like gun oil and jet fuel on top of the same coffee and stress.  
  
What the hell?  
  
“Is… is someone there?” Matt asked, hoping to shame Rogers and his friend into talking.  
  
“Oh - oh, I’m so sorry. Um. Sir, my name is Captain Steve Rogers-”  
  
Matt allowed himself to look surprised. “As-as in Captain America, Steve Rogers?”  
  
Bucky took a deep breath.  
  
“Matt?” Foggy called out. “What’s going on?”  
  
Matt tilted his head. “Someone claiming to be Captain America is at the door.”  
  
“I - no, I really am Captain America-”  
  
Foggy came around, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, standing in the hall where he could see Matt, and also Bucky. “Really. Are you?”  
  
“Listen, I’m here about James Barnes. I’ve been trying to find him and I know he’s in this apartment.”  
  
‘Does he think Bucky has us _hostage_ or something?’ “And if he is? What business do you have with him?”  
  
“I just want to talk.”  
  
“Steve-” The man behind Rogers spoke up, and Matt tilted his head. “Ah - sorry, I’m Sam Wilson.”  
  
“He’s a friend. He’s been helping me try to find Bucky.”  
  
“Let them in, Matt,” Bucky murmured. “It’s okay.”  
  
“ _Just_ talking, Captain Rogers,” Matt warned after a pause, and walked back into the apartment, leaving Rogers and Wilson to follow him. Wilson closed the door behind them softly.  
  
Standing in the middle of the living room, he could tell when Rogers spotted Bucky by his indrawn breath. “Bucky…” Rogers breathed out, while Bucky sat on the sofa stiff and still. “You remember me, Buck?”  
  
“Yeah. I remember you. Your Mom’s name was Sarah, and you wore newspapers in your shoes.”  
  
Rogers sucked in another sharp breath. “ _Bucky_ … it’s really you…”  
  
There was salt in the air. Foggy shifted, moving into the kitchen toward the coffee maker as an awkward pause stretched out after Rogers’s declaration.  
  
“Uh, hey. Wilson, right? Sorry… about your wings and all,” Bucky said, voice pitched low.  
  
Oh. That's what Bucky meant about flying - there had been reports of a man using a winged jetpack during the attack in DC.  
  
“Yeah, well. I got new ones. Let me punch you in the face a few times, we’ll call it square,” Wilson said.  
  
“ _Sam_ ,” Rogers admonished.  
  
“Look, Steve, I get that he’s your friend and all, but your homeboy there tried to kill me more than once and I’m not as forgiving of that as you are."  
  
Matt scowled, even as Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, okay, that works.”  
  
Rogers held out his hand, in a way that Matt assumed was supposed to be imploringly. “Bucky, come back with me.”  
  
“Come back _where_ , Steve?”  
  
“Avengers Tower - it’s great there. Secure.”  
  
“Secure,” Matt repeated flatly, crossing his arms. Foggy had been right - Steve Rogers was kind of a bossy asshole.  
  
Bucky huffed. “And owned by Stark, for all that there’s a big ‘A’ on it. Stevie, I _killed his parents_.”  
  
“That wasn’t _you_ -” Rogers said, raising his voice as he stepped forward. “ _Bucky_ , that was HYDRA, not _you_!”  
  
“I’m not going!”  
  
“It doesn’t _matter!_ Bucky, none of that matters!”  
  
“That ain't your call to make, Steve!”  
  
“ _Bucky_ -!”  
  
“ _DON'T TOUCH ME!”  
  
_ The two were shouting at each other now. Matt moved to step in between Rogers and Bucky as Wilson and Foggy tried to get everyone to _calm the hell down for five seconds, please!_ To no avail: Rogers moved to grab for Bucky. Matt tensed, and something winged through the air and cracked loudly against Rogers’s skull.  
  
“ _Ow!_ What the-?!”  
  
Matt traced the shape of the object now on the floor. It was a book, flung from the direction that Peter’s “room” was set up, in the corner. And Peter was crying.  
  
‘Captain America made my son cry,’ Matt thought, feeling distant, like he was floating outside his own body. ‘ _He’s a dead man_.’  
  
“ _Peter. Jonathan. Nelson-Murdock_ ,” Foggy said, his voice sharp without raising in volume. “We _do not throw things in this house_.”  
  
Peter sobbed, signing fast. -He wasn’t listening! No one was listening!-  
  
“What is he doing?” Rogers asked, rubbing his head where the corner of the book had hit him.  
  
Wilson patted Rogers’s chest, “Sign language. I got this. Hey, uh, can you translate for me?” Wilson called to Foggy as he knelt in front of Peter.  
  
Foggy moved over to stand behind Wilson. “He can hear you, it’s talking that’s hard for him.”  
  
Wilson nodded. “Hey Peter, my name is Sam… that must’ve been scary, huh? All those big guys raising their voices like that?”  
  
Peter nodded, sniffling. -He wasn’t listening to Uncle Bucky.-  
  
“... he calls him Uncle Bucky?” Rogers asked after Foggy translated, and Matt turned to give Rogers a scathing look - as best he could, anyway.  
  
“We’re not _just_ Bucky’s lawyers, Captain. We’re his _friends_.”  
  
“You’re his _lawyers-?_ ”  
  
Wilson ignored them. “Yeah, Steve’s got a problem listening to people, sometimes.”  
  
-Uncle Bucky said no. No means no,- Peter signed as Foggy translated for him. -You’re not allowed to touch people without their permission. It’s Bad. Uncle Bucky didn’t say he could touch Uncle Bucky.-  
  
Wilson nodded. “That’s right, he didn’t. So you threw that book at Steve because he wasn’t listening?”  
  
-Uncle Bucky said no. Uncle Bucky doesn’t want to leave. Uncle Bucky wants to stay with us. It’s safe.-  
  
Matt clenched his fists at his sides. ‘Oh _Peter_ …’  
  
“Would Uncle Bucky going with Steve make him not safe?” Wilson asked gently.  
  
Peter shook his head as fresh tears started falling. -Uncle Bucky made me safe.-  
  
Wilson leaned back on his heels. “Made _you_ safe?”  
  
Peter sobbed, crouching down on the floor to bury his face in his knees.  
  
“Oh _Malyutka_ ,” Bucky murmured.  
  
Matt stalked forward and scooped up Peter into his arms. “Yeah, okay, you’re done here. Leave. _Now_.”  
  
Rogers swallowed hard. “I-”  
  
Matt couldn’t stop the snarl that ripped from his throat. “Rogers, I swear to _God_ I will kick your ass down those stairs _myself_ if you don’t _get the hell out of my house_ -”  
  
“Matt, take Peter to the roof, please,” Foggy said calmly.  
  
“ _Foggy_ -”  
  
“ _Matthew_.” Foggy’s voice was sharp like a whip crack. “Take the baby, go outside, and _cool. Off_. I can handle this.”  
  
Matt growled, tucking Peter tighter against his chest. “Pete? Wanna go sit on the roof for a while? Uncle Bucky will still be here when we come back inside.” The last he directed at Rogers, his words pointed and sharp since he couldn’t just punch Rogers the way he wanted to.  
  
“I’ll be here, _Malyutka,_ I promise,” Bucky said softly. “Go calm down with Daddy.”  
  
Peter nodded, wheezing with the start of an asthma attack, and Matt snagged Peter’s inhaler and Foggy’s hoodie from the back of a chair as he stalked past and up to the roof.  
  
\---  
  
Matt kissed Peter’s temple as Peter finally started to calm down, the medicine doing its work and letting him breathe. Matt was wearing Foggy's hoodie and had Peter zipped up inside it as he held him, listening to Foggy smooth things over downstairs as he got Wilson, Rogers, and Bucky settled with cups of coffee.  
  
“First of all, Captain, I don’t care who you are - you come into my home and you raise your voice and scare my son again and I will get a _restraining order against you_ , do you understand? That is unacceptable behaviour, especially from a man in your position!”  
  
Rogers, for what it was worth, seemed appropriately guilt-ridden. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Foggy huffed. “Right. Now, without yelling - because if you yell I will not stop Matt from bouncing your ass down the stairs like a star-spangled slinky - what is it you hoped to accomplish by coming here?”  
  
Rogers shifted, sitting up a little straighter. “I wanted to see if Bucky was okay, if he was… himself. And I wanted, if I could, to bring him home.”  
  
“To Avengers Tower,” Foggy said. “A building owned by Tony Stark, whose parents famously died in a car accident that, as it turns out, was _actually_ a hit done by The Winter Soldier? Does Mr. Stark know about this plan of yours?”  
  
“I - no, but he gave me my own floor in the Tower, and said I was allowed to bring anyone I like-”  
  
“Something tells me, Captain, he was referring more to dates than former brain-washed assassins.” Foggy ran his free hand through his hair. “Bucky, do you _want_ to go with Steve?”  
  
“... if Mr. Stark says it’s okay, knowing everything.”  
  
Wilson chuckled. “He’s got you there, Steve. All that bitching about not wanting to bother Stark with this - now it’s time to bring him in.”  
  
“I know. I just - since the wormhole, and then that mess with those AIM people…? I just didn’t want to stress him out unnecessarily.”  
  
“So you were, what, going to hide Bucky in your closet and sneak food to him like a little kid hiding a kitten from their parents?” Foggy asked, his voice flat and annoyed.  
  
“Well, when you put it like _that,_ you make me sound like an idiot.” Rogers let out a heavy sigh. “Jesus, what a mess.”  
  
“Yeah, so, as Bucky’s counsel, I _really_ cannot advise him to just show up in Tony Stark’s home without Mr. Stark being completely aware of the situation. As his friend, I think that would be a _spectacularly shitty_ thing to do to both of them. _Especially_ given the situation.”  
  
Wilson cleared his throat, pointed, and loudly sipped his coffee. Rogers sighed. “Yes, Sam. You were right. I was wrong. I should have listened to you from the start.”  
  
“I’m gonna need you to say that again so I can record it and make it my ringtone.”  
  
Rogers sighed again, sounding very put upon, and Bucky snorted.  
  
“Well, now that you have a plan of action, I’m sure you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I say you’ve overstayed your welcome. I mean, it’s been a great honor to meet you and all and I’d totally invite you to stay for dinner, but you upset my son and my husband holds a grudge.”  
  
“Because I made him cry?” Rogers shifted his weight, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’d… actually like to apologize to him, if that’s okay? Your son and your husband.”  
  
There was a considering pause before Foggy allowed, “It’d be a start.” Foggy reached over and put a hand on Rogers’s wrist. “We’re all on the same side when it comes to Bucky, Captain. We all want what’s best for him, but we also cannot decide that for him. He’s a free man for the first time in seventy years - the last thing he needs is us making his choices for him.”  
  
Rogers nodded, and from his place on the roof, Matt sighed. “Ready to go in, Pete?”  
  
Peter nodded, breathing carefully the way he always did after an asthma attack. Matt opened the roof-access door and headed back down into the apartment.  
  
“Oh - good timing, Matt,” Foggy said brightly. “Captain Rogers has something he wants to say to Peter. Is that okay, Pete?”  
  
Peter nodded, tangling his fingers in the fabric of Foggy’s hoodie.  
  
“Well… I wanted to apologize for my behaviour earlier, Peter. I frightened you with my yelling, and my actions drove you to attack me, because you thought I would hurt Bucky. I’m sorry for that. I was scared, and sometimes when people get scared it comes out as anger. It’s not an excuse, but-”  
  
“We must dissent from the fear, Captain.”  
  
Matt froze. That was Peter’s voice. _Peter’s voice_ , the loudest he had ever heard it before, even though it would be considered a normal speaking volume for most people.  
  
“Dissent from the fear, huh?” Rogers mused, no idea of the importance of what just happened. “Any other advice?”  
  
“Justice cannot take root amid rage,” Peter replied, and then sniffled. “You need to _listen_.”  
  
“I’ll work on it, I promise. Thank you, Peter. Are you feeling better now?” Peter nodded, apparently done talking to Rogers as he shifted to hide his face in Matt's throat. “And… I want to apologize to you, too, sir, for the imposition.”  
  
Matt opened his mouth, but Foggy cleared his throat pointedly, and Matt subsided, shifting his grip on Peter to hold out his hand to Rogers. “Don’t scare my son again and we’ll be fine, Rogers. We all want what’s best for Bucky here, and we are very invested in his retaining his agency.”  
  
“Thank you for that. I really do appreciate that he has all of you looking out for him. I’ll be in touch in a few days about Tony.”  
  
“Maybe when you do that it can be during _business hours_ and not in our _home_ ,” Matt said, pointed and sharp, and felt darkly gratified when he heard Rogers clench his jaw.  
  
“Of course.” Rogers took the business card Foggy held out to him carefully. “I’m… sorry. For the disturbance.”  
  
“Apology acknowledged,” Peter said quietly into Matt’s neck. In spite of his aggravation over the situation, Matt felt his lips twitch at what Peter _wasn’t_ saying.  
  
Acknowledged, but not accepted.  
  
“We’ll see ourselves out. And Barnes? It’s good to see you doing better, man.” Wilson's heartbeat was steady - for all that had happened between them, he really was glad that Bucky was doing better.  
  
Bucky stiffened in surprise. “Oh. I - thanks.”  
  
“So which one of you is Nelson and which one of you is Murdock?” Rogers asked, looking between them.  
  
“Oh - I’m Foggy Nelson, he’s Matt Murdock.”  
  
“You didn't name the firm alphabetically?”  
  
“I like it better when he comes first,” Matt said flatly, before he could stop himself, and Wilson coughed to cover up his bark of laughter. “Good _night_ , gentlemen.”  
  
“Yeah, you too,” Wilson said, leading Rogers out.  
  
Once they had left, Foggy snorted. “Matt, you are _awful_ , you know that?”  
  
Matt hummed noncommittally and hugged Peter closer. “You okay, Peter?”  
  
“Yes, Daddy.”  
  
“Good. You’re talking with your vocal chords now?”  
  
Peter was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “... a little?”  
  
“That's fine. Whatever you're comfortable with, Pete.” Matt kissed his temple, as Foggy came over to kiss Peter's cheek.  
  
“It was really brave of you to answer Captain Rogers like that, but you can't throw things at people anymore, okay?” Peter nodded. “Will you sit with Uncle Bucky while Daddy and I finish dinner? I think he's a little upset about what happened, too.”  
  
“Yes, Papa.”  
  
“Thank you, Peter.” Matt set Peter down, and he and Foggy walked into the kitchen. “I’m not sure what I’m rolling my eyes harder over, the fact that of course the first damn thing our son says out loud is a Thurgood Marshall quote, or that you sassed _Captain America_ with our imaginary sex life.”  
  
Matt cleared his throat as he washed his hands. “It was a perfectly factual and true statement, Foggy. I _do_ like it when your name comes first. I told you, it sounds better.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Foggy elbowed Matt in the side. “You are a menace.”  
  
“Yeah, well, he never should have come to our home.” Matt hissed softly. “I don't care who he is.”  
  
“I know, Matty. I know.” Foggy rubbed Matt’s back between his shoulder blades. “Thank you for not punching him, by the way.”  
  
About to reply, Matt paused and cocked his head: several floors down, Rogers seemed to have found his voice as he stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Sam, I’m… not entirely sure how I feel about what just happened in there.”  
  
“The part where a blind dude threatened to kick your ass and no one in there doubted he could, the part where you scared a toddler so bad he lost his voice, the part where said toddler literally threw the book at you because you weren't listening, or the part where there are people other than you advocating for Bucky?”  
  
“All of that, I guess. They were treating me like I was a bully.”  
  
“Steve, you introduced yourself rank-first - as far as they know, you use your position to get what you want all the time. They’re not _just_ civilians, they’re defense attorneys. You are probably not the first guy throwing his rank around to get what he wants that they’ve had to deal with.”  
  
“But I wasn't-”  
  
“You know that, and I know that. _They_ don't. So you show up at their _home,_ which I told you was a mistake, and you come in and you forget about everything else once you have Bucky in your sights, so of course you don't notice all the signs that they’ve got a little kid living there, and you start yelling and that kid gets terrified enough that he loses the ability to speak and throws a damn book at your head - man, I am not surprised that Murdock threatened to kick your ass. My Mama would've beaten you black and blue before my father could even get out of his chair if you pulled that crap with me or my siblings. Then we would've gotten in trouble for throwing a book at you, but yeah.”  
  
“Nelson said that their son had trouble speaking, but when he spoke to me after he calmed down - that wasn't normal, right?”  
  
“I can't say, but I will tell you I don't know many toddlers who quote Thurgood Marshall.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Thurgood Marshall. Look him up sometime.”  
  
There was a momentary scratching of a pencil against paper. When Rogers spoke again, his voice held a mixture of doubt and hope. “He looked better, right? Bucky did?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, Steve, he did.”  
  
“That kid, he called him Uncle Bucky.”  
  
Wilson nodded. “You thinking twice about him coming to stay with you?”  
  
“No, but… depending on how things go with Tony, if he can't… it's good, that he's in a good place with them, right?”  
  
“Yeah. Are you okay, Steve?”  
  
It seemed like Rogers had both been expecting the question and not looking forward to it, as he hedged, “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean that you’ve been clinging to finding Bucky like a lifeline since DC. He’s been the center of your universe and now you're finding out you’re not the center of his, that he has people other than you, that he's setting up a life outside of you.”  
  
“... Sam…”  
  
“I’m just saying, Steve - you’ve been around, but you haven't exactly been, you know, _present_. You only noticed that Stark was falling apart because you nearly walked in on him freaking out and even then you said you left him alone, you didn't go help.”  
  
“I don't know if I could've helped-”  
  
“ _Bullshit_. For all that you've talked the Avengers up as being a team, you haven't been behaving like you are part of one.”  
  
Rogers rubbed his hands over his face. “Shit.”  
  
“C’mon. Let's go get a burger or something before we head back.”  
  
“Sam… thanks. You've given me a lot to think about.”  
  
“Don't thank me yet - you’re buying dinner.”  
  
Rogers laughed. “It would be my pleasure, Sam.”  
  
A tap on his back. “Matt?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Foggy’s hand stayed between Matt’s shoulder blades. “You okay? You were completely somewhere else.”  
  
“Eavesdropping on Rogers and Wilson.”  
  
“ _Matt_.”  
  
Matt sniffed. “I’m not sorry - Wilson gave Rogers some food for thought.”  
  
“Yes, but I need you chopping veggies so we can give our son actual food while I call everyone and kvetch that Peter's quoting Marshall now, too.”  
  
“Not sorry about that, either.”  
  
“Of course you aren't.” Foggy sighed and Matt grinned.  
  
Especially when, outside on the street, Matt heard Wilson ask, “Hey, think we'll run into that Daredevil guy?”  
  
“I kinda hope so - I like his moxie.”  
  
\---  
  
Someone was waiting for Matt before they opened the office in the morning.  
  
“Hi. I, uh, wanted to get here before you had any other clients.”  
  
Matt tilted his head. He smelled expensive cologne - light, not too cloying - and equally-expensive  coffee over stress, silk, and engine grease.  
  
“And you are…?”  
  
There was a shuffle and the man took off his glasses. “Shit, right, you have that whole blind thing or whatever going on. I’m Tony Stark. Captain America sent me.”  
  
“Mm. I doubt that - he would know better. But I do believe he told you about us.” Matt moved to open the office door. “My partner and Sergeant Barnes will be along shortly. They're picking up breakfast with our office manager.”  
  
“Place is kind of shabby, isn't it?” Stark said, looking around as he followed Matt inside.  
  
“And whose fault would that be, Mr. Stark?” Matt asked, frost slipping unbidden into his polite talking-to-clients demeanor. “Hell’s Kitchen wasn't exactly spared when aliens decided to rip a hole in the sky.”  
  
Stark sucked in a sharp breath, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't Matt. “I paid for the reconstruction-”  
  
“And left a giant hole for the likes of Wilson Fisk to stroll through and sit like a knot of rot in the middle of my neighborhood because you threw money at the problem and barely checked on it after!”  
  
“Mm, yeah, my precognitive psychic powers really dropped the ball on that one.”  
  
Matt shook his head, taking a deep breath. For all that Matt hated it, Stark _did_ have a point. “I _am_ grateful that you saved New York, Mr. Stark, but… I think my priest said it best: God Bless and keep the Avengers far away from us.”  
  
Stark swallowed, standing with his hands clenched in his pockets. “Yeah, I can understand that.”  
  
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I’m sorry - that was highly unprofessional of me. I suppose I’m still itching for a fight after what happened with Captain Rogers last night.”  
  
“Now _that_ is something I completely understand and can relate to,” Stark said. “He didn't mention anything had happened, per se. Just that he found Barnes, Barnes is the one who killed my parents while brainwashed - he was _very_ insistent on the brainwashed part - and that Barnes's lawyers thought he should talk to me before bringing a former assassin into my home - I appreciate that, by the way, thank you for thinking of me.”  
  
The thing most people didn't know about sarcasm was, to Matt, it still read as a lie. Stark, however, for all that he sounded sarcastic, was telling the truth. How often did Stark tell the truth using sarcasm as a shield?  
  
“Mr. Stark, the last thing we want is for Bucky to go into a hostile environment where he doesn't feel safe, and making you feel unsafe in your own home would be irresponsible at its mildest description. And I am still angry that Rogers did that to my son.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, he really didn't tell you? He didn't come to the office last night - he showed up at our _home_ and started yelling and terrified my four-year old son.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Rogers,” Stark muttered, then louder. “Peter, right? You adopted him in August. You got married a few days before the adoption went through.”  
  
Matt froze. “How do you know that?”  
  
“I looked you up before I came here. I wanted to know who I was dealing with. Just the stuff that was a matter of public record, you know?”  
  
Matt nodded, but still felt a little violated. Maybe this was what Foggy had meant about Matt using his senses on people deliberately. “Right.”  
  
“Is he okay?” Stark asked after a few moments of awkward silence.  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“Your son. Is he okay?”  
  
Matt fought the urge to rub his fingers against his pants. “He’s been better, but he's been worse, too.”  
  
The door opened, and Foggy walked in with Karen, holding bags of breakfast sandwiches and trays of coffee (and a hot apple cider for Peter), followed by Bucky toting Peter. There was a moment of startled inaction before Foggy recovered with only the barest hitch. “Mr. Stark! To what do we owe the honor?”  
  
“Cap told me about Barnes. I came down to see for myself.”  
  
Bucky shifted Peter in his arms. “Hello, Mr. Stark.”  
  
“ _Dyadya,_ are you okay?” Peter whispered into Bucky's ear.  
  
Stark shifted his weight oddly. “You trust him around your kid?”  
  
“Yes, but we understand why you would be nervous, Mr. Stark,” Foggy said, keeping his voice soothing.  
  
“Huh? Why?” Peter frowned. “ _Dyadya_?”  
  
“ _Malyutka_ , your parents and I need to talk to Mr. Stark, okay?”  
  
Peter patted Bucky's arm. “Okay, _Dyadya_. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”  
  
Stark seemed baffled by Peter's interaction with Bucky, more so when Peter walked right up to Stark. “Yes?”  
  
“Mr. Stark, will you please let Uncle Bucky say sorry?”  
  
“Say... sorry?”  
  
“About your parents.”  
  
Matt froze. _Of course_ Peter had heard everything last night - and how often had they talked about what happened to Bucky where Peter could hear?  
  
“What do you know about it?” Stark asked, leaning back against Karen's desk, though his voice was kind.  
  
Peter twisted his fingers in his shirt. “I know that for a while, Uncle Bucky was held captive by The Bad Men - the same ones who hurt Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They made him do bad things, and he didn't want to do them, but he couldn't stop himself, because they were controlling his brain. But he’s not with them anymore, and his brain is much better now. We're nightmare buddies.”  
  
“Nightmare buddies?”  
  
“We have bad dreams. So we sit together and watch cartoons so Papa and Daddy can sleep.”  
  
Stark nodded. “Yeah. Nightmare buddies are good to have.”  
  
“I’m sad. About your parents,” Peter said, though he was starting to sign as he spoke.  
  
“It-it was a long time ago, and you're young, so-”  
  
“I don't have my first parents anymore, or Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I have Daddy and Papa now, but I still miss them. You must miss them, too. And,” Peter hiccuped, starting to cry. “And it's really, really sad, because Uncle Bucky didn't _want to_ but it still _happened_ -!”  
  
“Oh no, no no kiddo, it's - it's - please stop crying, don't - shit what do I do with crying children?” Stark turned to Foggy. “Do I hug him, is hugging a thing?”  
  
Foggy didn’t hesitate. “Peter, do you want a hug from Mr. Stark?”  
  
Peter nodded, shoulders shaking as he shuffled forward. Stark knelt and wrapped his arms carefully around Peter, hugging him close. “Ugh, look at you, leaking everywhere,” Stark pulled out a cloth from his pocket and rubbed at Peter's cheeks and nose. For all the words were gruff, his voice was kind, and his touch gentle. “You don't have to be sad for me, okay? I’m gonna work with your dads and we're gonna figure something out. So no more tears, okay? Not for me, not about this. Okay?” Peter nodded, and Stark ruffled his hair. “Okay. You should have your breakfast while your dads and I talk. Deep breaths, find your Zen, and I promise the world looks better after a cup of coffee or six.” Peter giggled weakly at that, nodding as he rubbed at his eyes.  
  
Foggy cleared his throat. “Right this way, please, Mr. Stark - we can talk in the conference room.”  
  
Foggy led Stark into the conference room as Bucky trailed behind, and Matt moved over to Peter. “Hey, you okay?”  
  
“I’m sad, Daddy. I know he said not to be…”  
  
“I know.” Matt ran his fingers through Peter's hair. “You are very kind, to feel that kind of sympathy for other people.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Matt shook his head and knelt to kiss Peter's forehead. “I love you. I have to go work, now. Will you be okay with Aunt Karen?” Peter nodded carefully. “Good boy.”  
  
When Matt walked into the conference room, Foggy was waiting for him near the door. “He okay?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s sitting with Karen and having breakfast. I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Stark-”  
  
“Don’t worry about it - I actually like kids, you know? Little bundles of potential before all the bullshit in the world ruins them. How old is he, again?”  
  
“He’s four.”  
  
“Jesus - that’s really articulate for four, isn’t it?”  
  
Foggy shrugged. “I imagine we’d sound like every other parent in the world if we said 'Peter’s always been a bright boy,’ you know? In any case, shall we begin?”  
  
Stark nodded. “I want the information you have from Barnes.”  
  
“We can't give that to you, and we can't make you copies,” Matt said.  
  
“Okay, but I still need that information,” Stark tapped his fingers against the desk, and Foggy jerked slightly in surprise as Stark continued to twitch his fingers. “If I stay here, can I read whatever you have and then return it to you?”  
  
“Why do you need to know this information, Mr. Stark?” Matt asked, fighting not to grit his teeth.  
  
“Because your son made an interesting point. I need to know what was done to Barnes’s brain, so I know who to contact to find out if it is actually _undone_ or, if I just let him into the tower the way Rogers wants, I’m going to wake up with that metal hand of his crushing my throat because _some switch_ got flipped and he’s back to killing people HYDRA tells him to.”  
  
“Y...you know people who can check for that who aren’t compromised?” Bucky asked, a little breathless.  
  
“To be honest, I mostly have one guy in particular in mind and I can guarantee that HYDRA hasn’t gotten to him because he’s the world’s most powerful telepath.”  
  
A telepath? Matt frowned. “A telepath?”  
  
“Professor Charles Xavier, one of the leading minds in genetics, biophysics, psychology, anthropology, and psychiatry. He runs a school upstate that I’ve donated money to - calls it a school for the gifted, but in reality it’s a safe place for kids with abilities to learn how to control their powers. He owes me a favor or two.”  
  
“And if he does find any leftover presents from HYDRA programmers?”  
  
“I’m not gonna speak for what the man can or can’t do, but I imagine that, with Sergeant Barnes’s permission, he can get rid of them without much difficulty.”  
  
Bucky whimpered, and Foggy reached over to wrap a hand carefully around Bucky’s wrist. “You don’t have to agree to this, Bucky-”  
  
“ _I want it_ ,” Bucky growled. “If - if there’s a way for someone to make sure that everything those fucks left in my head gets cleared out, I want it. Show Stark the file. Please.”  
  
Foggy gave Bucky’s wrist a gentle squeeze. “I’ll go get it.”  
  
Stark’s fingers continued to twitch in weirdly specific patterns. “Do you remember everything you’ve done?”  
  
Bucky hunched in on himself. “I… bits and pieces? It’s coming back, but slow. Usually in nightmares.”  
  
“Nightmare buddies,” Stark muttered. “What does a four-year old have nightmares about that compares with yours, Barnes?”  
  
‘Well, there's the small matter of how he witnessed an agent of HYDRA murder his aunt and uncle, but aside from that, I assume he has nightmares about whatever it is most four-year olds do,’ Matt thought angrily before he took a deep breath. “Whatever Peter dreams about, he hasn't wanted to talk to any of us about it.”  
  
“What about a therapist?”  
  
Matt forced his jaw to unclench. “Mr. Stark, I ask that you cease asking questions about my son - that has nothing to do with Sergeant Barnes's case.”  
  
The idea of admitting to a man like Tony Stark that they couldn't afford the kind of therapist Peter needed - or any kind of therapist at all - made Matt’s rage flare up like an almost tangible being in the room. He didn't begrudge Tony Stark his money, as far as Matt was concerned the man earned it a thousand times over since shutting down his weapons manufacturing, but…  
  
But.  
  
“Right. Sorry.” The twitching continued.  
  
“Mr. Stark, what are you _doing_ , exactly?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I can hear you twitching - is everything all right?”  
  
“Oh - I, uh, set up a holographic computer with my phone. To take notes.”  
  
Matt blinked behind his glasses. “I have no idea how that would even work, Mr. Stark.”  
  
There was a long, awkward pause. “Do… you want me to explain it?”  
  
“Not in the slightest, thank you. It doesn’t sound very accessible to a man like me. No use for holograms.”  
  
Stark hummed, and twitched again. “What kind of phone do you use?”  
  
Matt cocked his head, bewildered. “... a working one? I don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing - Mr. Stark, where are you going with this?”  
  
“Nothing, nothing-” More twitchtapping. “Just - ideas, you know?”  
  
Mercifully, Foggy came back in then with Bucky’s file. “Here you go, Mr. Stark. All the information we have that cannot leave this office, even in pictures. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Nah, it’s fine - I can take notes, though, right?”  
  
“That should be okay, yes. I’ll stay here with you - Matt, I’m sure there’s other work you want to get done today?”  
  
Thank God for Foggy Nelson. “You sure?”  
  
“Absolutely. Bucky - you don’t have to stay in here, either, if you don’t want to.”  
  
Bucky shook his head mutely.  
  
Matt got up, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder in reassurance, and catching Foggy’s hand as Foggy sat, squeezing that, too, stroking his thumb over Foggy’s knuckles and letting his thumb catch on Foggy's wedding band. “Let me know if you need anything,” Matt murmured, softer and embarrassingly more tender than he intended it to come out, but Stark was already ignoring them in favor of the file in front of him.  
  
“Yeah. Will do.”  
  
Matt walked out of the room and into his office, resting his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands under his glasses.  
  
What a mess.  
  
\---  
  
In the end, it had taken Stark hours to comb through the information they had. Stark had gotten up several times to pace back and forth in the room, and Bucky had made himself “useful” by constantly refreshing Foggy's and Stark’s coffee, giving him something to do while Stark picked apart Bucky's trauma.  
  
(“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” Stark murmured at one point. “This is-”  
  
“Yeah. I know.”  
  
“No sane person would ever let this go to trial, seeing this.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m not really expecting sympathy from the American Government given the givens. No offense.”  
  
“No, seriously, there’s literally no case here - your lawyers know that, too. I still have contacts in the government, I can make sure this never even goes to trial.”  
  
“I can’t ask you to do that for me-”  
  
“You’re not.”  
  
“Let’s talk with Professor Xavier, first, before you start bribing government officials, Mr. Stark,” Foggy interjected, always the voice of reason.  
  
“Who said anything about bribes? I was thinking guilt and a little mild blackmail.”  
  
“Guilt and _blackmail_?”  
  
“Captain America’s best friend is the world’s longest-serving POW, can you imagine the PR nightmare charging him for the crimes committed while he was essentially a prisoner if we released what happened to him? There’s an election year coming up, Mr. Nelson, it would be career suicide for a politician.”)  
  
“I’ll get in contact with the professor,” Stark said, packing the file back up and handing it back to Foggy. “I doubt he’ll be able to come by before Christmas - it’s a hard time for the students at the school, given the givens - so I’ll reimburse you for keeping Barnes housed while we figure this mess out, starting from when he first came to you.”  
  
“Mr. Stark, that’s really not necessary-!”  
  
“I know how much Rogers eats, and if you eat even half that, you’re clearing out their fridge twice a week, and if you’re _not,_ you’re starving yourself.”  
  
Matt frowned as he leaned in the doorway. Bucky didn’t actually eat all that much. For the most part he made himself soup and drank protein shakes.  
  
“Bucky?” Foggy asked, concerned.  
  
“I don’t do so great with a lot of solid food,” he mumbled. “Even though it’s been awhile since-” Bucky cut himself off, hunching in on himself. “It’s just hard.”  
  
“Rogers has no idea about any of this.”  
  
Bucky shook his head. “No. He can’t. I’m supposed to take care of him, not the other way around.”  
  
“He doesn’t see it that way.”  
  
“Why are you helping us out like this?” Matt asked, apparently startling the three in the conference room if the sudden jerking around was any indication. “You said it yourself you have no love for Rogers, and the Winter Soldier murdered your parents. You have nothing to gain from any of this. So why, Mr. Stark, are you doing this?”  
  
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”  
  
No hesitation, no needing time to think about it. Matt tilted his head. “You are not the man the media wants you to be, are you, Mr. Stark?”  
  
Stark slipped on his glasses again. “Haven’t you heard? Good men are boring, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
“I’ve never thought so.”  
  
“I’ll be in touch,” Stark said with a nod and handing Foggy a card. “Call that number and you can ask to talk to Rogers or myself, and you’ll be patched through right to us. The money for Barnes will be in your account by the time I get back to the Tower.”  
  
He walked out, ignoring Matt and Foggy’s protests, and Matt sighed as the door clicked shut. “He is _really_ something else, isn’t he?”  
  
“He’s a bossy egomaniac with a God complex who is used to getting what he wants,” Karen grumbled, but then added slowly, “but he’s kind, too, so.”  
  
Foggy ran a hand through his hair with a chuckle as he tucked away the card. “Well, no one ever said those things were mutually exclusive. You okay, Bucky?”  
  
Bucky swallowed hard and nodded. “He… you really think this Xavier guy can fix me?”  
  
“What do you mean by fix? I mean, haven’t you had enough of people mucking about in your brain?” Karen asked.  
  
“I mean make sure that HYDRA can’t get me again. Remove those codeword triggers that I know are still buried in my brain.”  
  
Peter wandered over and tapped Bucky on the hand. “Do you need a hug, _Dyadya_?”  
  
Bucky scooped up Peter and held him close. “Yes. Thank you, _Malyutka_.”  
  
Peter hugged Bucky tight with one arm, his other hand petting Bucky’s hair carefully, the same way Foggy did when Peter had a nightmare. “We’re here, Uncle. We love you. It’s okay.”  
  
Bucky let out a choked noise, half a sob, and Karen was moving forward, wrapping them both in a hug and Foggy pushed Matt in ahead of him so that Foggy could wrap around all four of them in a massive hug. They stayed like that until Bucky stopped shaking.  
  
\---  
  
True to his word, Stark dumped an obscene amount of money into their bank account for Barnes, which was promptly used to pay off bills at Bucky’s insistence - he had been using money he stole from HYDRA to pay for the food he bought, he told them, and if Tony Stark wanted to give them money they’d be stupid to turn it down. Foggy agreed with Bucky’s pragmatism, and Matt seethed at the idea of it until Foggy reminded him that it wasn’t a handout, and it wasn’t out of pity - it was Stark reimbursing them for what they would be spending on Bucky, which settled Matt down, but only just.  
  
It was also just as Stark had said, and Professor Xavier, while “more than happy to help,” wasn’t able to make it into the city until after the new year, which left Bucky spending Christmas with them.  
  
“I’ll be going to Midnight Mass,” Matt said quietly as he and Foggy lay in bed together, back to back, a few nights before Christmas Eve - Matt on “enforced bedrest” since Claire had texted Foggy and told him about having to pop Matt’s shoulder back into place the night before. Foggy had not been pleased. “I’m not going to make you come with me, but I would like to take Peter. I think he’d like it.”  
  
Foggy rolled over and wrapped his arm around Matt’s middle, spooning up behind him and tucking his knees behind Matt’s. “I’ll come with you, too. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone to Midnight Mass. We’re married, we should do these things together. I mean, I know I don’t go to church with you every week, and we don’t make Peter go with you every week, but for a holiday like this I think we should go as a family.”  
  
Matt could feel the warmth spread from the pit of his stomach out to the tips of his fingers and toes, making him blush. He pressed his face into the cool silk of his pillow to hide it, hoping it was too dark for Foggy to see. How long have they been married that Foggy saying things like that still made him blush and feel like there were butterflies in his stomach?  
  
He was a grown-ass man, it was honestly getting embarrassing.  
  
Matt wriggled back to press closer to Foggy and press his cold feet to Foggy’s shins, making Foggy curse softly and trap Matt’s feet to warm them. “I’d like that. You can tell me how the church looks.”  
  
“Stained glass lit up with candlelight, the air a little heavy with the incense, and just a bit too warm from all the people and the candles…” Foggy murmured sleepily. “... though it feels weird leaving Bucky alone. Should we bring him?” Karen had already told them she’d be spending Christmas Eve with Doris Urich, and that she’d see them Christmas Day.  
  
“If he wants to come with us, I suppose.”  
  
“Mm. We’ll ask in the morning.” Foggy shifted his head, lips brushing against Matt’s sore shoulder accidentally. “G’night, Matty.”  
  
“Good night, Foggy.”  
  
Matt laid awake, listening to Foggy sleep, feeling the phantom brush of his lips even hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3 :3 :3
> 
> Some translation notes:  
> Malyutka - Russian for "little one"  
> Dyadya - Russian for "Uncle"


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wanna close up early and hit up Josie’s to drink away the pain?”
> 
> “Can't get drunk.”
> 
> “So?”
> 
> “Good point.”
> 
> “Eh, what the hell. It's five o’clock somewhere, right?”
> 
> “I’ll get our coats.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna have this chapter out sooner, but then I went to the ER twice and ended up in the hospital for four days with really bad pneumonia, so that plan got tanked. :D? But I'm better now, so here you go, new chapter!
> 
> I hope you guys change your minds about Steve in this fic after reading this chapter - there's been some comments that were pretty upsetting, and I wanna make sure things get cleared up.
> 
> Also heads up, I earn my rating in this chapter! :3
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Shout out and endless thanks to [fulldaysdrive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive) for beta-reading this chapter! They continue to be amazing and wonderful and are such a great friend.

Bucky sat quietly when Matt and Foggy asked him about his plans for Christmas, and told him that he was invited to Midnight Mass with them. “Can I invite Steve? Christmas is for family and… and...”  
  
And Steve Rogers was Bucky’s family.  
  
Matt reached out and covered Bucky’s hand with his own. “As long as he behaves himself. Father Lantom is an understanding man, but even he has his limits.”  
  
“So no staging a political coup. Again.”  
  
Bucky chuckled weakly at Foggy's joke before he nodded. “I’m…  I’ll call him.”  
  
“All right,” Matt said. “Just let us know if you need something.”  
  
Bucky couldn’t call. The first day he avoided his phone completely (by doing all the laundry he possibly could in the apartment. And then the dishes. And then the mopping). The next day, he’d pick up the cheap burner he had gotten when he hired them, get halfway through dialing and then hang up. Or he’d dial and be unable to hit ‘call’. Once, he got an answer and then hung up like the phone was on fire and threw it into the couch with a snarl.  
  
“ _Dyadya,_ are you ok?” Peter asked, peering up onto the couch after Bucky’s phone.  
  
“I’m failing at being a basic human type person, little one.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I have a very important phone call to make, but it is very, very hard. I’m nervous.”  
  
Peter was quiet for a thoughtful moment. “Want me to do it?”  
  
“ _No_. I am not so far gone that I’m gonna make a four year old make my phone calls for me.” Bucky ruffled Peter’s hair. “Thank you, though.”  
  
“Good. I was gonna make Papa do it when he got home.”  
  
Bucky snorted and pressed a kiss to Peter’s hair as Peter climbed up onto the couch and handed Bucky back his phone. “Brat.”  
  
“Can I sit with you while you make it? Will that help?”  
  
Bucky nodded, swallowing hard. “It might. Thank you, Peter.”  
  
Bucky sat down next to Peter and dialed again.  
  
“Hello?” a distinctly British voice said.  
  
“I- this is James Barnes, calling to speak to Steve? Steve Rogers?”  
  
“He’ll be glad to hear it, I’ll connect you to the Captain now.”  
  
Bucky held his breath as the operator clicked over to Rogers. “Hello?”  
  
“Hey Stevie.”  
  
“Bucky, hey! Hi! Hello! Um, is everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah. I just. Um. We’re going to Midnight Mass at Matt’s church, and. Uh. Would, um, would you like to come with us?” Bucky finally got the question out in a rush, all in one breath.  
  
“I-”  
  
“You can bring Wilson, if you want.”  
  
“Sam’s gone to visit his folks for the holiday. I’d love to go with you. Are, uh, they okay with you inviting me? Nelson and Murdock, I mean? I kind of blew my first introduction with them…”  
  
“You always do,” Bucky said, voice fond. “They said I could invite you if I wanted, as long as you behaved and didn't stage another political coup.”  
  
“I _think_ I can manage that for you, Buck.”  
  
Matt padded forward to rest a hand on Bucky’s arm. “Tell him to come by the apartment, first, around eleven. We’ll walk to the Church together,” he murmured.  
  
“Uh, Matt says you should come by a little early, around eleven, and we’ll walk there together.”  
  
“Oh- yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there. So. Um. How are-?”  
  
“I gotta go, Steve. I’ll see you Christmas Eve.”  
  
Rogers sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Bye Bucky.”  
  
“Bye.” Bucky disconnected the call and breathed out as he sank, practically boneless, deeper into the sofa. “Well,” he said after a long moment, turning to look at Peter. “That wasn’t so bad.”  
  
“Hot chocolate?” Peter asked.  
  
“Marshmallows,” Bucky answered, and got to his feet to head into the kitchen.  
  
Matt chuckled, going over some files he brought home from the office as Bucky bustled around the kitchen, making hot chocolate as Peter sat fidgeting at the breakfast bar next to Matt. Bucky set down a mug in front of Matt (“Nine o’clock at your left.”) and one in front of Peter, loaded with extra milk and mini marshmallows.  
  
“Is there any for Papa?” Peter asked, and Matt wasn't sure what he felt.  
  
What did it mean when at the age little kids thought of nothing but themselves, his son wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone?  
  
Matt was proud of him, either way.  
  
“Yeah. I made enough for Papa, too. Actually,” Bucky said, tilting his head carefully. “I think he’s almost home.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Foggy's keys jingled in the lock. “I’m home! Sorry, Mrs. P needed help with her sink, but she sent me home with _kolaczki_ to share with you all!” Foggy sighed as he set a Tupperware down on the table near the door removed his coat. “Something smells good!”  
  
“I made hot chocolate,” Bucky called back as Foggy came in and placed the Tupperware of cookies on the counter. “I was just about to fix up your mug. I heard you come in downstairs.”  
  
“That _definitely_ means I am sharing these with you,” Foggy kissed Peter's temple. “Hey, Peter, whatcha knowin’?”  
  
“Phone calls are terrible and upsetting,” Peter said before slurping his cocoa.  
  
“Are they?”  
  
“Uncle and I agree.”  
  
“Yeah, well, when you have to make your own phone calls we’ll work on it.” Foggy tapped the backs of his fingers on Matt’s arm as he opened the Tupperware. “You do remember what the word vacation means, don't you?”  
  
“Just doing some research, Fog,” Matt said innocently, reaching out to snag a cookie with a pleased noise. Mrs. Peplinski used raspberry jam in the _kolaczki_ , the good kind that Matt loved but that was far too expensive to justify buying.  
  
“Well, stop that at once. It’s Christmas Eve Eve!”  
  
Matt snorted as Peter slurped his cocoa again. “Whatever you say, Foggy.”  
  
\---  
  
The next night Steve Rogers showed up at eleven o'clock with a small bag of gifts.  
  
“I. Um. I didn't have a lot of time to go shopping, but I wanted to thank you for letting me come tonight and-” Rogers stammered out, his face hot. “It’s not as much as you all deserve at all, but I thought you might like them.”  
  
Matt frowned. “Captain-”  
  
“Call me, Steve, please.”  
  
Matt nodded. “Steve. You didn't have to get us presents.”  
  
Bucky was fidgeting. “I didn't get you anything, Steve.”  
  
“It’s fine! I wasn't expecting anything! I just. I was an ass the last time I was here and I wanted to get you all some nice things to make up for it.”  
  
Matt, carefully, opened the gift Rogers had given him, startling when his hand came into contact with something soft. Upon further petting, he figured it was made of cashmere. “What…?” Matt lifted it out of the paper, and the fabric unspooled into his lap, the softest scarf Matt had ever felt in his life. “Captain- Steve, this must have cost a fortune!”  
  
“I can spare it right now. Seriously, you don't want to know what my back pay is like. Do… you like it? I figured, you know, you'd appreciate something soft like that. It’s red, by the way.”  
  
Matt tilted his head. “Red?”  
  
“Yeah. A nice kind of dark wine red. You, uh. You seemed like you’d like red, and that you’d look good in it.”  
  
 _‘Oh Captain, you have no idea_.’ “Thank you, Steve. I’ll wear it tonight.”  
  
Foggy let out a quiet gasp as he opened his own gift. “Captain Rogers, this is beautiful, thank you!”  
  
“Foggy?”  
  
“It’s a scarf like yours, Matt, but it’s this really nice, like, gunmetal grey-”  
  
“It reminded me of the fog in London,” Rogers said. “And your eye color, so-- it just made me think of you.”  
  
Matt didn't even realize he was growling until Foggy snorted. “He’s not flirting with me, Matt, knock it off.”  
  
“He’s not good enough for you, anyway,” Matt grumbled, and Foggy let out another, delighted snort.  
  
“I. Um. Here, Peter. I, actually there's a couple of gifts in here for you. This one is from Tony - Mr. Stark.”  
  
“Huh? Okay?” Peter took the package from Rogers and opened it carefully. “Oh!”  
  
“What is it, Peter?” Matt asked, mental images of all the horribly inappropriate things a man like Stark could and would buy a four year old running through his head.  
  
“It’s a book! _How Things Work._ ” Peter sounded utterly delighted. “There's a note… Papa?”  
  
“It says that there's a plug in the book that should connect to your refreshable Braille display, so that every time he turns a page, the display changes as well,” Foggy read. “He says that he's thinking about making advancements in accessibility tech, and if all goes according to plan, every book published from romance novels to textbooks will have these chips in a few years.”  
  
Damn Stark for being considerate like that, anyway.  
  
“And. Um. This one is from me,” Rogers said, awkwardly. “It’s not a fancy book, or anything, but-”  
  
Peter let out a tiny, happy squeak as he opened the wrapping paper.  
  
Matt leaned into Foggy as Peter squirmed about, apparently putting things on. “What is it?”  
  
“It’s a hat that has fox ears, a matching scarf that’s colored like a tail, and mittens with paw pads on them. It is really adorable, oh my god.”  
  
-Thank you!- Peter signed as best he could wearing his new mittens, and Foggy sneakily took a picture of him on his phone.  
  
“Oh! I know that sign, that’s thank you, right? You’re welcome! I started learning ASL since I last saw you. I’m really glad you like your gift, Peter,” Rogers said, and he carefully made the sign for “you’re welcome” as he said it.  
  
Peter nodded with another squeak, and went to hide behind Matt’s legs, hiding his face behind Matt’s knees.  
  
“You okay there, Peter?” Matt murmured softly to him. Peter nodded, breathing slow and deliberate. “Are you sure?”  
  
Peter nodded again, sniffling.  
  
Rogers flinched. “Have I upset him, again?”  
  
Peter tugged on Foggy's pants leg. -He learned ASL for me. I’m having a lot of feelings,- Peter signed with a sniffle, and Foggy relayed that to Steve.  
  
“You learned ASL because of Peter?” Bucky asked, voice quiet.  
  
“Well, he’s important to you, isn't he?” Rogers said, as though it made perfect sense.  
  
“I think this is probably the greatest gift you could’ve given him, Captain. Thank you,” Foggy said, understably just as awestruck as Matt was.  
  
Rogers rubbed the back of his neck. “I… I’m glad. I’m sorry I upset him.”  
  
“He’s just trying to process,” Foggy said kindly, as Peter tucked his face harder into Matt’s legs and hiccuped. “And it’s a bit past when he’s normally asleep by, so he’s a little tired on top of that.” He shrugged.  
  
Rogers nodded and turned back to Bucky. “And. Um. This is for you, Buck.”  
  
Bucky accepted the gift carefully. “Stevie…”  
  
“I just. I want you to have it. Please open it, Bucky.”  
  
Bucky opened his gift carefully, making sure not to tear the paper as he pulled out… whatever it was that Rogers had given him. “What… is this?”  
  
“It’s. Um. Drawings I’ve done. Of my memories of you, and of Brooklyn.”  
  
Bucky was quiet for a long moment, flipping through the pages. “Thanks, Stevie.”  
  
Foggy’s phone buzzed. “Oh, that’s my alarm. We should get going if we’re walking - we don’t want to be late!”  
  
The walk to the Church was awkward to say the least, with Matt and Foggy walking with Peter tucked between them, Bucky stalking ahead like a man on a mission, and Rogers trailing behind like a lost duckling.  
  
Getting settled into a seating arrangement was even more awkward, Rogers wanting them to sit in the pew first, while Matt wanted to sit on the end with Peter, just in case Peter got fussy and needed to leave during the service. Bucky, thankfully, solved the problem by grabbing Rogers by the ear and dragging him into the pew, forcing him to sit down first and then sitting between him and Foggy, which left Matt with Peter on the end.  
  
“I tried going back to Church after I defrosted,” Rogers muttered to Barnes. “I was so caught off guard by the service being in English I couldn't make myself go back - this is the first time I’ve been back in one.”  
  
“I _know_ , right?” Bucky muttered back. “But Father Lantom’s good - you’ll like him.”  
  
Matt could feel everything press in on him like the warmest blanket, a familiar comfort that was just somehow _better_ with Foggy next to him, describing the way the stained glass caught the candlelight, and Peter bundled up against Matt’s side and slowly nodding off. The scent of incense wasn’t overwhelming, and for just a few moments, everything was perfect. No crime, no planning in the back of his mind to go out that night, it was just Matt and his family, enjoying the holiday together.  
  
It really was perfect.  
  
\---  
  
Peter was officially dead to the world asleep when the service ended, and Foggy carried him home with Matt’s hand tucked in his elbow as Bucky and Rogers trailing behind them.  
  
“Um. You wanna come up for a cup of coffee or something?” Bucky asked quietly after Matt had dragged Foggy into the building and up the stairs to give Bucky and Rogers at least the illusion of privacy.  
  
“Coffee?”  
  
“Or hot chocolate or tea or something? We should probably talk.”  
  
“Oh. I, yeah, I’ll come up for some coffee.”  
  
Foggy flicked Matt’s forehead. “Stop dropping eaves, Samwise.”  
  
Matt startled, rubbing at his forehead. “What? No, I’m not!”  
  
“ _Matthew_. You look two seconds away from flashing the porch light at Bucky like he’s coming home from his first date with a boy.”  
  
Matt sighed as he took Peter from Foggy’s arms so Foggy could take off his coat. “Rogers is coming up for coffee. I vote you start the pot and maybe leave a note suggesting they go up to the roof.”  
  
“Uh huh. Are you going out tonight?”  
  
Matt rolled his sore shoulder. “After Rogers leaves, probably.”  
  
Foggy took a deep breath. “Be careful.”  
  
Matt wanted to lean in and kiss him, cradle Foggy’s jaw in his palm and murmur ‘of course I’ll be careful, I have you to come home to,’ but Rogers and Bucky were almost to the door, and he _really_ didn’t want to have to deal with the heartache of Foggy turning him down in front of them.  
  
“I’m always careful,” he said instead, and Foggy snorted rudely as he took Peter from Matt’s arms.  
  
Okay, maybe he deserved that one.  
  
Matt peeled out of his coat and carefully unwound the scarf Rogers got him from his neck and hung it up carefully. He kind of hated that he loved it so much already, but Matt was ready to admit, at least to himself, that half the reason he disliked Rogers ( _Steve_ ) so intensely was spite.  
  
Matt never claimed to be a great man, just a sort of okay one.  
  
Sometimes.  
  
He kissed Peter goodnight and he and Foggy were already in their bedroom when Bucky opened the door.  
  
“Huh. Did they forget they put coffee up?” Rogers asked in a soft whisper, and Bucky muttered a curse in Russian.  
  
“Matt thinks he's clever, and Foggy knows he is. C’mon, let's drink on the roof - Peter's sleeping.”  
  
Coffee was poured and Bucky led Rogers to the roof, and suddenly Foggy had his ear pressed to Matt’s.  
  
Matt went very still. “Wh-what are you doing?”  
  
“I know you’re gonna be eavesdropping on Bucky and Steve and I wanna know what they’re saying, too.”  
  
“You know you’re not gonna be able to hear them because you’re pressing your ear to mine, Fog,” Matt murmured. “That’s not how it works.”  
  
“Don’t kill my dreams, Matt.”  
  
“I can tell you what they’re saying, if you want?”  
  
Foggy nodded, but didn’t move away. “You know how much I love knowing all the good gossip.”  
  
Matt took a deep breath, steeling himself against Foggy’s warmth and closeness as he focused on eavesdropping.  
  
“--just, you need to understand that I’m not that guy anymore, Steve,” Bucky was saying. “I’m not that guy you grew up with in Brooklyn. I wasn’t that guy anymore when you dragged me off of Zola’s exam table, and I’m _definitely_ not that guy now.”  
  
“Bucky-”  
  
“I need you to tell me you understand that, Steve.”  
  
“Except that you’re wrong.”  
  
Matt growled as he relayed that to Foggy and Foggy pinched his side.  
  
Bucky sighed. “Steve-”  
  
“No, Buck - listen to me. That guy from Brooklyn? You’re still him. I see it when you interact with Peter and I see it in the way you are around Matt and Foggy. Are you exactly the same? No. But at your core, you are - and will always be - Bucky Barnes, my friend. My _brother_. So all that crap before, about disappointing me with the fact that you had some - and I’m quoting Tony here - ‘truly fucking awful shit’ happen to you and that changed who you are as a person? As my friend Sam would say ‘that ain't gonna fly here.’  Anything about you that’s different, I’ll learn to deal with.”  
  
“ _Awwww_ ,” Foggy whispered, and Matt squeezed his knee.  
  
“Thanks, punk,” Bucky said softly, after a long moment of quiet.  
  
“Merry Christmas, jerk,” Steve replied, just as soft.  
  
\---  
  
New Year’s Eve, Foggy kissed Matt on the mouth at midnight - closed-lipped and laughing into it and pulling away before Matt could react - and once Peter had gone to bed, Matt went out and stopped three muggings and got a lead pipe to the knee, so the new year started off as a bit of a mixed bag as far as Matt was concerned.  
  
\---  
  
Late into the afternoon before they were supposed to go to Avengers Tower to meet with Professor Xavier, Foggy’s parents came to get Peter to babysit him for a few nights.  
  
“Thank you so much for doing this, Ma. It’s just with this case, we’re gonna be working late and Bucky's not really in a good place to be looking after Peter while we work - he’s too nervous about tomorrow - and we don't know what the situation is going to be tomorrow and we’d rather know Peter is somewhere safe just in case we have to work late doing damage control.”  
  
Anna Nelson snorted. “Oh please, Frankie. Like it's such a hardship to take care of my grandson. We’ll have plenty of fun together, right Peter? And there's that face timing thing if he needs to see you. Candy showed us how to do it, and it is utterly delightful!”  
  
Frank adjusted the strap of Peter’s bag on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Frankie. I promise.”  
  
Anna turned to Bucky and patted his arm tenderly. “And you are going to be _fine_. You’re in good hands with my boys.”  
  
“Your boys I trust, it’s this other guy I’m worried about,” Bucky muttered, but covered Anna’s hand with his own flesh one. “Thank you, though, Mrs. Nelson.”  
  
Peter reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand. “I’ll see you again?”  
  
“Of course, _Malyutka._ I’ll be here when you get back.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence as Peter and Bucky looked at one another, before Peter nodded once and leaned back, tucking his face into Anna's hair.  
  
“Hey Pete? Can Daddy and I get hugs before you go with Nana Anna and Grandpa Frank?”  
  
Peter practically flung himself out of Anna's arms to hug Foggy tight, only Anna's quick reflexes saving her from dropping him. “Bye bye…”  
  
Matt moved in slowly and hugged Peter and Foggy as tight as he could without hurting them. “We’re gonna miss you, Pete. Be good.”  
  
Peter wrapped an arm around Matt’s neck with a sniffle. “Okay.”  
  
At Peter's nod against his cheek, Matt kissed Peter's hair. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. You’ll be with Nana Anna and Grandpa Frank.”  
  
“And Aunt Candy and Uncle Keith are coming for dinner with cousin James and cousin Lulu!”  
  
Peter nodded again and let Matt and Foggy help him back over to Anna’s shoulder. “Okay. You have the things?”  
  
“Yep yep! No worries, Pete, I got them.”  
  
The day after Christmas, Peter had sat down with Bucky and Foggy for help with making Stark and Rogers ‘thank you’ cards - something Peter had apparently decided to do all on his own. The cards were currently stashed in Foggy's briefcase, where he would be sure to see them and give them to their intended recipients.  
  
Karen leaned in and kissed Peter's cheek. “ _Mwah_! Have fun, Peter.”  
  
Peter nodded and waved at the four of them again before Frank and Anna carried him out of the office.  
  
“He’s going to be totally fine and we’re all going to be complete wrecks of separation anxiety, aren't we?” Karen asked after a long moment of silence as they all stood there, staring at the door.  
  
“Yup,” Bucky said, nodding.  
  
“Wanna close up early and hit up Josie’s to drink away the pain?”  
  
Bucky shook his head. “Can't get drunk.”  
  
“So?” Karen asked, running a hand through her hair as she took it down from the twist it had been in.  
  
Bucky stared at her in contemplative silence for a long moment. “Good point.”  
  
“Eh, what the hell,” Foggy said, throwing his hands up. “It's five o’clock somewhere, right?”  
  
Matt sighed. “I’ll get our coats.”  
  
\---  
  
Karen made Bucky drink the eel as Foggy drunkenly showed Josie pictures of Peter from his phone and Matt “accidentally” spilled his beer on the guy at the poker game in the back who was cheating at cards.  
  
All in all, a good night out, and Bucky had generously poured several glasses of water into Karen, Matt, and Foggy to help avoid “hangover induced death” in the morning, and put them all to bed, letting Karen take the couch while Bucky crashed on the floor.  
  
\---  
  
“It is _really unfair_ that you drank the eel and aren't even a little bit hung over,” Foggy muttered darkly as they took a cab to Avengers Tower the next morning. They had left Karen in a blanket burrito on the couch after she had actually _hissed_ like an angry cat at Bucky when he tried to move the blanket covering her head.  
  
“I told you I can't get drunk,” Bucky said, though he still sounded rough. “I still didn't sleep great. ...Is it creepy when I say it's cause I couldn't hear Peter breathing?”  
  
“Is it creepy when I tell you that I kept waking up because I couldn't hear his heartbeat?” Matt muttered. Not even the haze of alcohol had kept him from waking up in a panic because his son was missing, and he knew every time he woke up he had woken up Foggy as well, because Foggy had patted his hip with a sleepy mumble of “he’s with my parents, he’s fine.”  
  
“The both of you are endearingly creepy and invasive in your affections,” Foggy said, running his fingers through Matt's hair.  
  
Bucky sighed and leaned his head against the window of the cab. “Maybe it's a good thing I’m so tired. A quieter brain, right?”  
  
“Is it, though? Quiet, I mean?”  
  
Bucky shook his head, and Matt reached over Foggy to wrap a comforting hand around Bucky's arm. “We're here for you, Bucky.”  
  
“I remember.”  
  
By the time they got to the Tower and Foggy paid the cabbie, Matt’s headache was a dull ache at the base of his skull, and Bucky's nerves seemed to be as settled as he could get.  
  
Foggy smelled like he did before entering a courtroom.  
  
Foggy stood with Bucky as Matt made his way up to the main desk. “Hi, my name is Matt Murdock, and I’m here with my associates Foggy Nelson and James Barnes. We're here to see Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers. They're expecting us.”  
  
“I’m sure they are,” the man behind the desk said, voice flat.  
  
“S’a’ight, I got this,” a new voice said, and Matt tipped his head. Coffee and pizza and jet fuel. How curious.  
  
“Agent Barton-!” The man behind the desk said, surprised.  
  
“They _are_ expected, Reggie. They're lawyers.”  
  
“But he’s _blind_!” The man behind the desk - Reggie? - blurted.  
  
“And I’m half deaf, what’s your point?” Agent Barton asked sharply.  
  
“I- but their suits...”  
  
Agent Barton reached over the desk and picked up something - a phone? - as he spoke. “Classist _and_ ableist, you are two for two today, Reg. Yeah - Happy, buddy, hey it’s Clint, we’re having a bit of trouble at the front desk with your boy not doing his job? I know you're busy, but- yeah, 'preciate it.” Barton hung up the phone. “Sorry about that, Mr. Murdock - Head of Building Security is on his way down to get you three visitors passes, and I’m to escort you up to the conference room.”  
  
“I. Thank you, but who are you?”  
  
“Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye. Former Agent of SHIELD and currently a member of the Avengers. Hand’s at your twelve o’clock.”  
  
Matt reached out and shook Barton's hand. “How did you know who I was?”  
  
“Tony and Cap briefed the team - we’re all on guard in case anything goes wrong.”  
  
Matt couldn't help but tense up. “Are you expecting my client to be a problem?”  
  
“Nah,” Barton said easily. “More likely some splinter group would try to attack. But we’d rather be prepared than caught with our asses out. Besides, team solidarity, you know? The least we can do is be here for Cap and Tony.”  
  
“Matt?” Foggy asked, drifting over with Bucky following him. “Is everything okay?”  
  
“The head of building security is on his way down to deal with us. Foggy, this is Agent Barton - Hawkeye, of the Avengers. Agent Barton, this is Foggy Nelson, my partner and husband, and next to him is James Barnes, our client.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Just as they finished shaking hands, a man walked up to them with a determined stride. “Hawkeye.”  
  
“Hey, Happy. Happy Hogan - Head of Security for the building. Happy, these are the lawyer people Tony's waiting on, but Reggie here seems to have forgotten _protocol_.”  
  
Foggy made a curious noise and Matt shook his head. “Just the usual nonsense, Fog,” Matt murmured to him. “God forbid I be blind, shabbily dressed, _and_ a lawyer.” Foggy let out a slow breath and wrapped a hand around Matt’s wrist.  
  
“Reginald and I will be having a talk about that later, I assure you, Mr. Murdock,” Hogan said with a frosty tone at poor Reggie. “We have _standards_ here, I expect everyone who works here to meet them. Now, let’s see about those visitors passes.”  
  
As Hogan worked, Reggie had moved from where he sat at the desk to lean against the wall behind it, his face hot. Matt, confusingly, found himself between Foggy and Bucky, and Bucky had placed himself between Matt and Reggie. It would’ve been fine, if not for the almost inaudible squeak from Reggie when Bucky spared him a glance that was apparently more menacing than Matt realized. “Bucky.”  
  
“Boy should’ve thought of that before he was rude to you, Matty.”  
  
“I don’t need you to protect me, Bucky.”  
  
“I’m not, I’m just standing here, minding my own business, waiting on the visitors passes for Avengers Tower. If I look tense it’s because I’m tense.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Matt said indulgently, feeling weirdly fond as Hogan handed Bucky and Foggy their passes.  
  
“Pass is at your three o’clock, Sir. Please attach it to your lapel,” Hogan said to him. “Once you put that on, Agent Barton will bring you upstairs.”  
  
Matt affixed the pass to his jacket and Foggy gave his wrist a comforting squeeze. “Well then, Agent Barton?”  
  
“Right, c’mon then - want me to guide you, Mr. Murdock?”  
  
“I think Foggy’s got it, but thanks.”  
  
They entered an elevator, and Barton said “Conference Room, would you, J?”  
  
"Certainly, Agent Barton." While Matt recognized the crisp, British voice that had answered Bucky's telephone call, it came out of _nowhere_ , and he jerked in alarm.  
  
“Where-?!”  
  
“Oh jeez! Sorry, Mr. Murdock, I should've warned you. J is the Tower AI. Say hello, J.”  
  
“Terribly sorry, Mr. Murdock. I am JARVIS. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  
  
“Uh, yours as well, JARVIS,” Matt said, reeling a little.  
  
“Has Stark never seen Terminator?!” Foggy hissed.  
  
“Sarah Connor is my dream woman,” Bucky said, a grin in his voice.  
  
“I have protocols in place should Skynet ever, as Sir says, 'become a thing,’” the AI said, and for all that JARVIS was a computer and not a person, Matt could hear the frosty distaste in its British accent.  
  
Barton chuckled. “JARVIS is a good guy. Just as much an Avenger as the rest of us, right buddy?”  
  
“Indeed, Agent Barton,” JARVIS replied primly, though Matt would've sworn there was a pleased inflection in the AI’s voice.  
  
“I have to ask, does JARVIS control all the elevators?”  
  
“Only the ones that go to the Avengers floors, and even then we’ve got Braille floor markers and buttons and such. Tony is really thorough.”  
  
Huh. “Good to know.” After a moment of silence, Matt’s curiosity got the better of him. “Are you really half deaf?”  
  
“I have eighty percent hearing loss in my right ear - job hazard when you are frequently making things explode, you know? I’ve got a cochlear implant now.”  
  
Foggy made a curious noise. “Do you know ASL?”  
  
“Yeah - learned while I was healing up enough for them to do the surgery, kept up with it because having a silent means of communication is useful. You know, Cap asked me if I knew anything about the language? Been teaching him - he was pretty excited about it. Said it was important that he learned, even if he didn't personally need it anymore.”  
  
“Your floor, sirs.” JARVIS spoke as the elevator stopped, before Matt or Foggy could say anything in response to that. “Professor Xavier’s ETA is seven minutes.”  
  
“Thank you, JARVIS.”  
  
They stepped out of the elevator onto the plushest carpet Matt ever set foot on - he had the bizarre feeling that he should probably take off his shoes or risk ruining it, somehow.  
  
“Right this way, fellas.”  
  
Bucky’s whole body was tense and practically shaking with the nerves that Matt thought Bucky had settled when they got there. “Bucky, remember, we can always leave, okay? They can't keep us here. If you don't want to do this, we can go.”  
  
“I’m okay. I want this.”  
  
Matt nodded and carefully sat down in one of the most comfortable chairs he ever sat in in a conference room.  
  
“Stark does not mess around,” Foggy murmured, sitting on Bucky's other side.  
  
Outside the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and voices floated into the conference room. “We really appreciate you flying out here like this, Professor.”  
  
“I’m always happy to help Tony, Miss Romanov. Where is he?”  
  
“Steve went down to get him from the workshop when Barnes and his lawyers got here-”  
  
“Then we will wait until they join us. The sergeant is with his lawyers in the conference room, correct?”  
  
Matt tensed up as the door opened again, and Foggy got to his feet as Matt tilted his head curiously at the sound of wheels on carpet.  
  
“Ah- hello Professor. I’m Foggy Nelson, and that's my partner, Matt Murdock, and our client James Barnes.”  
  
“Charmed, Mr. Nelson. As you have guessed, I am Charles Xavier, and this is my associate Logan.”  
  
“Logan?”  
  
“Just Logan,” the man rumbled, and Matt frowned. “...The professor asked me to come with him because he’s been doing similar stuff with me, trying to get my memories back.”  
  
“Oh - that would be _very_ helpful, Mr. Logan, thank you.”  
  
“However, if you don't mind waiting until Steven and Tony get up here before he begins his explanation, we would appreciate it,” Xavier said smoothly. “Logan dislikes talking about the experience and I would rather he not have to do it more than once.”  
  
“Of course,” Matt said, folding his hands in front of him.  
  
The silence was tense and awkward, and Matt was never more grateful when Stark strode into the room with Steve trailing after him. “Okay, hi, hello we’re here. Hey Chuck.”  
  
Xavier chuckled. “Hello, Tony. Shall we begin?”  
  
Logan and Xavier explained the procedure, and how Logan would be staying in the room when Xavier worked on Bucky, just in case Bucky got triggered and attacked, which Bucky agreed to, as long as everyone else waited outside the room, so as not to interfere with the process. Matt didn't like it, but agreed to it all the same.  
  
Matt squeezed Bucky's hand before Foggy guided him out, Steve and Stark right behind them. “And now we wait.”  
  
Foggy led Matt to a chair before sitting next to him and opening his briefcase. “Mr. Stark, Captain - I have thank you cards from Peter for you.”  
  
Stark froze. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Peter found out we were going to be seeing you and wanted us to give you these - he was very insistent.”  
  
Stark picked up his card from where Foggy set it down on the coffee table. “I. Uh. Wow. I don't know what to say.”  
  
“He loves the book you got him,” Foggy said, smile in his voice. “And it was really considerate of you to make one with that screen reader chip in it - it must have been a lot of work.”  
  
“It was just something I thought of in the shower,” Stark mumbled. “It’s no big - I’m glad he likes it. Bright kid.” He elbowed someone behind him - Barton - as he tried to read the card over Stark's shoulder. “No, go away, it’s mine. Go read Steve's.”  
  
“...is Peter doing okay?” Steve asked quietly, holding the card in his hands like it was the most precious thing on Earth.  
  
Matt nodded. “He’s doing all right. He loves that hat and scarf set you got him - convincing him not to go to sleep in it is a challenge, but if it helps him sleep peacefully at night we don't mind so much. He’s still really touched you learned ASL for him.”  
  
“Wait, that’s why you wanted to learn?” Barton asked, and Steve sighed heavily. “Can I see a picture of him?”  
  
“Uh. Sure?” Foggy pulled out his phone to show Barton a picture of Peter on his phone.  
  
“ _Damn it!_ ”  
  
Barton pulled out his wallet and pulled out a wad of bills, thrusting them at the woman who hadn't spoken since they walked in. “When will you learn not to bet against me, Barton?” she said, counting her money.  
  
“You said he wanted to learn so he could talk with a cute brunette! How was I to know you meant a _toddler?!_ ”  
  
Matt was sure his grip on his cane was white knuckled. “....what.”  
  
Steve sighed heavily. “Mr. Murdock, Mr. Nelson, this would be Natasha Romanov, also known as the Black Widow. She’s also made it her life’s mission to get me a date. Which is probably what led Clint to think that the ‘cute brunette’ I wanted to learn ASL for was someone I wanted a date with.”  
  
“Well. I suppose he wouldn't say no if you wanted to take him to the park,” Foggy said faintly. “But Karen might shank you for trying to encroach on her time with her godson.”  
  
“Shank?” Steve asked, a little baffled.  
  
“Is she single?” Romanov asked, curious.  
  
Before Foggy could answer her, there was a crack of thunder as a sudden downpour of rain started falling, and Matt’s headache did not forgive him the sudden change in air pressure.  
  
“Oh hey,” Barton said cheerfully. “Thor’s back.”  
  
' _Oh God._ ’  
  
\--  
  
It took several hours (and the man who could turn into the Hulk - one Dr. Banner - had sent up a message via JARVIS that he would be staying in his lab until the “stress” was over, and Matt wished he could join him if only to get away from the boisterous Thor), but finally - _finally_ \- Xavier, Logan, and Bucky finished. Bucky's skin was clammy and he smelled like he had been crying. “Bucky?”  
  
“I’m okay, I’m okay Matt,” Bucky said, voice soft. “It was just. Hard. But, uh, the professor says I’m clean now.”  
  
“I removed the code word triggers in his mind,” Xavier said, kindly. “His mind is now entirely his own.”  
  
Steve got to his feet. “Bucky?”  
  
Bucky surged forward, wrapping Steve up in a tight hug. “ _Stevie_.”  
  
It got a little chaotic after that, with Thor hugging everyone (it took everything in Matt not to try and break the thunder God’s nose in a panic, and then later not to try and break his nose _again_ for literally picking up Foggy and swinging him around), and Matt’s headache was getting worse when the Professor spoke quietly to him.  
  
“Mr. Murdock, a word, if I may?”  
  
“Certainly, Professor, what can I do for you?”  
  
“I believe that the best thing for James right now would be to stay here with Steven for the night. He doesn't have to, of course, but that is my professional opinion. It would do him some good to rebuild what he thought he has lost.”  
  
“I’ll have to talk about it with him as well as my partner, but I will keep your advice in mind, Professor.”  
  
“...If I might say so, Mr. Murdock, you have a truly unique way of perceiving the world.”  
  
Matt froze. “Excuse me?”  
  
“I’m sorry, you are just… well, we in the field call it 'projecting’. Only the most sensitive of telepaths would be able to pick up on your thoughts, but you tend to think very loudly. I am usually better at blocking such things but I just finished a very intense session, and my shields are not at their best.”  
  
Matt took a slow breath. “I assume whatever you are picking up from my brain is due to my blindness.”  
  
“Mm. When did you lose your sight again?”  
  
“I was nine. Professor Xavier, I would _really_ prefer it if you stayed out of my head.”  
  
“I understand. For what it's worth, Mr. Murdock, I _am_ sorry I was unable to help you, in your youth.”  
  
' _I’m not a mutant_ ,’ Matt thought in a panic. A scientific accident, yes, but he wasn't born like this.  
  
' _And that is why I’m sorry, Matthew,_ ’ Xavier's voice was soft and soothing in Matt’s mind. ' _I feel we could have done much for you, if you were._ ’  
  
'GET OUT OF MY HEAD!’ Matt thought “at” Xavier's presence as loud as he could.  
  
The professor's presence faded from Matt's mind, and Matt wanted nothing more than to reach out for solid ground, for even footing, for _Foggy_ -  
  
Foggy's hand was warm on Matt’s elbow. “Hey, you okay?”  
  
“Just. Long day, Fog.” Matt let himself lean a little heavily on Foggy. “What's the plan?”  
  
“Since Peter isn't due back until tomorrow night, Bucky wants to stay here with Steve for the night, see if they can cohabitate again before committing to anything.”  
  
Matt nodded. “Okay then.”  
  
Xavier cleared his throat. “Logan and I need to get back to the school, if there's nothing else you require of us, Tony.”  
  
“Nah, Chuck, we’re good. Thank you again, and I’ll send a check-”  
  
“I already told you that was unnecessary, Tony,” Xavier said, though his voice was fond.  
  
“Yeah, but I don't care, so.” Stark shrugged. “Check. Expect one.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. You got it, Stark,” Logan rumbled.  
  
“If the Professor is heading off, I believe Matt and I should go, too. Bucky, you have our numbers if you need us.”  
  
Bucky nodded, drawing Matt and Foggy into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much-!”  
  
Matt reached up to squeeze Bucky's arm. “Hey. You're family now, remember? You will _always_ have us. Anything you need.”  
  
Bucky nodded, giving Matt and Foggy another squeeze. “You two should take advantage of having the apartment to yourselves tonight. You deserve it.”  
  
Matt could feel his cheeks heat up. Right. As far as Bucky knew, he and Foggy were _actually married.  
  
_ “I’m sure we'll think of something to do, Bucky, no worries.” Foggy ruffled Bucky's hair. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening, and we’ll figure out where to go from there.” Foggy stepped back, nodding to the room at large. “It was nice to meet you all.”  
  
“Likewise.”  
  
“Yeah, same.”  
  
“Indubitably!”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Rogers came up to Matt and took his hand in both of his own. “There is nothing I can do or say to thank you for what you and your husband have done for Bucky and I. I can't thank you enough.”  
  
Matt covered Steve's hands with his own. “Captain, this is what we do. It doesn't matter that Bucky was the famous Bucky Barnes. He could've just been Bucky from Brooklyn, and we still would've done everything in our power to help him. It is who we are, and what we pride ourselves on at Nelson and Murdock.”  
  
“Still. If there's anything the Avengers can do for you, anything at all, let us know.”  
  
“We’ll keep it in mind, Captain,” Foggy said, fondly. “But we should head back.”  
  
Steve nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
“Good bye, Cap. We’ll see you soon.”  
  
“I’ll have someone drive you back, don’t worry about a cab,” Stark said, shifting awkwardly.  
  
“Thanks, Mr. Stark. JARVIS can escort us out, right JARVIS?”  
  
“Certainly, Mr. Nelson.”  
  
Matt waved as Foggy gathered up his briefcase and took Matt by the elbow and herded Matt into the elevator as Xavier stayed behind to talk to Stark.  
  
As soon as the elevator doors closed, Matt slumped against the wall. “Ground floor, please, if you would Mr. JARVIS?”  
  
“Of course, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
The elevator began to move, and Foggy laced his fingers with Matt’s. “You okay?”  
  
“I need a million painkillers and a few hours of mediation. And a phone call to my kid.”  
  
Foggy snorted. “Well, we’ll unwrap Karen when we get home and pour some painkillers into you, and you can meditate after we call our kid.”  
  
“Should we bring her something?”  
  
“She’s a grown up, she can fend for herself. I’d rather not hassle whoever Stark has driving us any more than we have to.” Foggy hummed and pulled out his phone. “Oh - I got a text from her, she said she went home since we weren't coming back to the office. That solves that.”  
  
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. “Your floor, Mr. Nelson, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
“Thank you, JARVIS. Have a good day!”  
  
JARVIS paused for a moment. “I. Yes, thank you. You as well.”  
  
The person meeting them to drive them home, however, made Matt pause. “Is that Miss Romanov?”  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“Your perfume is the same.”  
  
“Hm,” Romanov said. “Still, I’ll see you home.”  
  
“Uh. Thank you, Miss Romanov.”  
  
“Call me Natasha. Tell me about your son - Steve had forbidden me from doing deep research into him, so all I know is stuff I got from creeping on the company Facebook page.”  
  
Foggy kept his hand holding Matt’s as they sat in the car and pulled out into traffic, stroking his thumb over Matt’s knuckles, and told Natasha some cute stories about Peter as she drove, including Peter's first meeting with Captain America.  
  
“The Thurgood Marshall thing is really funny if you’ve known Matt as long as I have - Thurgood Marshall is Matt’s favorite person ever.”  
  
Natasha chuckled. “I bet.”  
  
Matt squeezed Foggy's hand, trying to convey that Foggy should stop talking through the strength of his grip alone.  
  
“But yeah, so mostly until that point Peter didn't talk at all, he just used sign language and soft humming noises.”  
  
“And Steve has no idea?”  
  
“None. We’d rather he not know, you know? We're not sure how he’d feel about it.”  
  
“Well, I do love knowing secrets that other people don't, so I’ll keep my mouth shut about it,” Natasha said, and her heart said she was telling the truth, but the hair on the back of Matt’s neck still prickled like they were in danger.  
  
That might have just been Natasha herself. She reminded him of Elektra, if Elektra ever allowed herself to be tamed.  
  
He supposed there was a reason her codename was Black Widow.  
  
“Here you are - have a good day, gentlemen.”  
  
“You as well, Miss Natasha,” Foggy said, and Matt gave her a brief wave as they climbed out of the car and hurried into the building. “I feel like she was trying to honeypot us into talking about Peter.”  
  
“That's what she does.”  
  
“I guess. Still not sure how I feel about it.” They walked upstairs, and Foggy let them into the apartment with a groan. “Okay, painkillers and you can meditate while I order dinner and call Peter?”  
  
Matt set aside his cane and gave Foggy a thumbs up as he staggered toward the bedroom to change.  
  
\---  
  
Peter, as Karen predicted, was having a _wonderful_ time with Foggy's parents. Candace and her husband apparently took the kids to the science museum during the day, which had Peter overflowing with excitement. James was thrilled that his cousin was speaking in a way James could understand, and the two were as thick as thieves now, which Foggy was convinced could only lead to headache inducing mischief in the future. Peter was just excited that they were having a sleepover at “Nananna’s.”  
  
“... How is Uncle Bucky?” Peter asked finally, his voice soft.  
  
“Well, he’s having a sleepover with Steve - Captain Rogers - now that the doctor said his brain is healed of all the icky stuff The Bad Men did to him,” Foggy said. “Steve _is_ his best friend, you know? They really missed each other. But Uncle Bucky did say that he’d be here tomorrow evening when you come home.”  
  
Peter was quiet for a long moment. “Good. I’m glad.”  
  
Anna's voice carolled to Peter that it was time to get ready for bed, and Peter's heavy, almost theatrical sigh made Matt grin. “You heard Nana,” Matt said fondly. “Go on and get ready for bed. We love you, Peter.”  
  
“Love you too, Daddy. Papa. Good night.”  
  
“Good night, buddy. Sleep well.”  
  
Peter mumbled “bye” as he hung up the phone and Foggy leaned his head against Matt’s shoulder.  
  
“Fog?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“He’ll be okay, right?”  
  
Foggy hugged Matt from the side awkwardly, the cellphone still in one hand. “Yeah, Matty. He’ll be fine.”  
  
Matt nodded, giving Foggy a quick squeeze back before getting to his feet. “I’m going out.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “Be safe out there, Matt.”  
  
Matt saluted before he went to put on the body armor and head out into the crisp night.  
  
\---  
  
Matt staggered into the apartment, dizzy and giddy with the rush from the explosion - he’ll have to tell Melvin the suit did its job well; the worst he had was sore ribs from the impact against the wall.  
  
“Matt?” Foggy called from the kitchen, curious and a little worried, the news streaming soft and tinny on his laptop. “They said on the news there was an explosion over at the docks, that there was some drug ring holed up there- oh my God!”  
  
Matt’s hand immediately went up in front of him, placatingly. “Foggy, I’m _fine_ -!”  
  
“You are _not fine_ , you _idiot_ , you got _blown up!_ ” Foggy hissed. “And you _look_ like you got blown up! How are your ribs? Do I need to call Claire? Oh God, you are _bleeding_ -”  
  
Was he? Huh. “It’s not that bad, Foggy.”  
  
“How about you let the person with the _working_ eyes in this apartment be the judge of that?” Foggy snapped, hauling out the first aid kit that took up half the space under their sink. “Can you get out of that ridiculousness yourself?”  
  
Matt sighed. Always, _always_ ragging on the body armor. “ _Yes_ , Foggy. Because I’m _fine_.”  
  
“Shut your trap and get out of that stupid outfit and sit on the couch.”  
  
“Ah, such tender words from my adoring husband. Truly, I am loved,” Matt said as he peeled himself out of his body armor and slumped on the couch.  
  
“Yes, you ass,” Foggy growled, sitting next to him and cleaning Matt’s face. “I love you very much, now _please_ let me get you to stop _leaking_.”  
  
Foggy’s heart was steady for all he was annoyed with Matt, and his touch on Matt’s face was gentle as he cleaned the cut on his jaw, and he was so close and Matt was still riding a little high from the adrenaline of the fight, of a good night out and Foggy was _right there_ , and Peter was with Foggy's parents and Barnes was with Rogers and, really, what _was_ stopping Matt from kissing Foggy? _Why_ was it _such_ a bad idea, when Foggy was right there, smelling like _home,_ fingertips gently tipping Matt's head to the side and if Matt shifted just a little…  
  
He slid his hand up to cradle Foggy's jaw in his palm, thumb brushing Foggy's lower lip before he leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow.  
  
Foggy let out a startled noise, soft and barely there and it might have been Matt's name before Matt slid his tongue inside Foggy's mouth, tasting the spearmint from their brand of toothpaste, the Pad Thai they had had for supper, and the coffee they had been drinking all day, and Matt had to press closer, had to slip his hand back into Foggy's hair and press him deeper into the back of the couch, to get closer to that taste, that smell. Matt slid his other hand up Foggy's thigh, warm and soft under the worn flannel of his pajama pants, and Foggy wasn't wearing anything under them, was getting aroused as Matt touched him and _God_ Matt would live and die in that scent if he could, if Foggy would let him.  
  
Foggy lifted his hand to press against the side of Matt's neck, his other burying itself in Matt's hair, too and tugged and _oh, oh yes- “Foggy,”_ Matt moaned against Foggy's mouth, more desperate and needy than he wanted to sound but Foggy was biting at his lower lip and, really, how was Matt not supposed to press up against Foggy at that?  
  
“ _Matty_ ,” Foggy murmured, nuzzling him. “...bed?”  
  
There was more room on the bed, that was true, but he’d have to stop kissing Foggy to get there, which was a terrible idea. Matt huffed against Foggy's jaw and bit gently at his ear. “Hold on to me.”  
  
“Wha- _whoa!_ ” Foggy clung to Matt with a squeak as Matt shifted his grip and lifted Foggy up off the sofa. “Oh my God, oh my God, Matt put me _down_ you are going to _hurt_ _yourself_ you _dummy_ -!” But he hung on, wrapping his legs around Matt's hips as Matt carried him from the living room and into the bedroom and set Foggy carefully down on the bed, like an art piece to be admired, flush and warm and soft as Matt ran gentle hands up Foggy's sides and settled between Foggy's legs.  
  
Matt pushed the old T-shirt Foggy wore to bed up, running his hands over Foggy’s chest and stomach as he kissed him, hungry and greedy and desperate to touch as much of Foggy as he could, in all the ways he had denied himself for months, for _years_. “ _Foggy..._ ” Matt's hips rocked down as he let out a faint whine.  
  
“I’m here, I’m here, Matty, I'm not leaving,” Foggy murmured against Matt's hair as Matt kissed his way along Foggy's jaw and down his throat, pulling away only to get Foggy’s shirt off and tossed to the floor somewhere. “Matt, you need to be careful, my husband is _blind_ -”  
  
Matt laughed, pressing Foggy deeper into the mattress as he kissed him. “Don’t worry about it, it’s by the wall.”  
  
Foggy slid his hands up Matt’s thighs to grip his hips and rock up against him. “Mm… Jesus, you’re so hot.”  
  
“Am I really?”  
  
Foggy gasped, half fake, half real as Matt slid his hand inside Foggy's pajama bottoms, curling it possessively around Foggy's hip. “Vanity is a sin, isn’t it, Matthew? What would the church say?”  
  
“I honestly don’t care right now,” Matt murmured between kisses. How could he care about anything else right now, with Peter safe elsewhere and Foggy so warm and flush with arousal under him? “Foggy, I, can I?” He tugged on Foggy’s pajama bottoms gently, the action itself half a question.  
  
Foggy lifted his hips in answer, and Matt stripped his pajama bottoms off, a little too fast and hard enough he could hear some stitching pop before he flung them in the same direction as Foggy's shirt. “Whoa, easy there, Matty-”  
  
“Can’t, I can't,” Matt gasped against Foggy's skin, breathing in his scent as Matt pressed kisses along Foggy's hip. “You smell _so good_ , Fog…”  
  
Matt licked the head of Foggy's cock, revelling in the sound of Foggy's moan, letting it wash over him like the sweetest song, the greatest hymn. Matt gave Foggy's cock another lick before he swallowed him down, as far as he could take it, and _moaned_.  
  
Foggy’s hands flew up to bury themselves in Matt’s hair. “Oh _fuck me, Matty-!_ ”  
  
Matt couldn't stop the short bucking of his hips against the mattress as he gripped Foggy's hips, taking Foggy’s cock so deep in his mouth tears sprang to his eyes and then slowly pulled off with a lewd sounding _pop_. “Can I?”  
  
Foggy moaned, breathing hard. “Wha-?”  
  
“Can I fuck you, Foggy?”  
  
“ _Yes_.”  
  
Matt scrambled further up the bed, careful not to hurt Foggy in his effort to get to the lube and condoms he kept hidden in a box in the drawer of his nightstand (the last thing he needed was to explain lube and condoms to his four year old, but thankfully his son didn’t have a habit of digging through drawers), and yes, Foggy was laughing at him, but Matt probably did look ridiculous and over eager as he ripped into the condom packet with his teeth to roll it on.  
  
Foggy tugged him down into a kiss as Matt got lube on his fingers, and no one could really blame him for getting distracted by Foggy’s mouth, could they? The way their tongues slipped and moved against each other as Matt reached down to press a gentle finger inside Foggy and swallow down the resulting moan. “You feel so good, Foggy,” Matt mumbled into the kiss, curling his finger _just so_ to make Foggy shout, working in a second finger to scissor him open as Foggy’s fingers pressed bruises into Matt’s shoulders and _yes yes yes fuck-  
  
_ Foggy bit Matt’s lower lip again, the pain sweet and sharp before being soothed away by Foggy’s tongue. “Hurry _up_ , Matt. I’m ready-!”  
  
Matt pressed a third finger inside of Foggy with an eager noise. “Don’t wanna hurt you - never _ever_ wanna hurt you Fog.”  
  
Foggy huffed and kissed him again, making Matt whine. “I can handle whatever you give me, Matt. So _give it to me_.”  
  
Matt pulled out his fingers with great reluctance before adding more lube to his hand, stroking himself over the condom and hissing softly. If he came too soon, he was never going to forgive himself. Foggy deserved so much better.  
  
“You’re thinking too hard for this, Matt,” Foggy murmured, soft and trying to hide the sudden nervousness Matt could smell coming off him, under the arousal.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Matt blurted. “That’s what I’m thinking of.”  
  
Foggy opened his mouth to say something, but Matt took that moment to press inside him, and the sound of their moans rang in Matt’s ears, in his bones, and everything was tighthotperfect _FoggyFoggyFoggy-!  
  
_ Matt braced himself up on his hands on either side of Foggy’s head, gasping and trembling with the effort to hold himself up, to stay still.  
  
“Move, Matty, move, it’s fine it’s fine c’mon Matt-” Foggy was babbling, legs wrapping around Matt’s waist. “So _good_ , Matty, _please_!”  
  
Matt groaned, sliding down to the elbows to kiss the words from Foggy’s lips, licking into his mouth as he slowly rolled his hips. Foggy gasped, and tightened down around him, and Matt lost all sense of time, of anything outside their bedroom, and all he could hear was Foggy’s moans, his heartbeat, the slap of skin on skin as Matt sped up his thrusts and reached down with one hand to grip Foggy’s cock and pump him in sloppy counterpoint.  
  
Matt buried his face in Foggy’s throat, breathing in the sharp scents of sweat and musk and arousal and _Foggy smelled like Matt_. Matt shuddered, so close, too close, Foggy hadn’t come yet- he bit down on Foggy’s throat, and Foggy came with a shout, spilling over Matt’s hand and his stomach and chest and Matt _groaned_. Everything was was too much, too hot, and he was so close Oh God Foggy Foggy Foggy Foggy-  
  
 _Foggy_.  
  
\---  
  
Matt woke up feeling sticky and gross in all the best sort of ways, naked and wrapped around an equally naked and sticky Foggy, and something inside of Matt was practically purring in contentment.  
  
Except.  
  
Oh God, what had he done?  
  
 _What the hell had he been thinking_?  
  
Matt eased away from Foggy, who was so deep asleep he barely twitched, and Matt crept out of bed and to the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as he could stand as he scrubbed at himself.  
  
(It didn’t help, of course, the scent of Foggy clinging to him, he’d smell it for _days_ -)  
  
Matt’s heart was a jackhammer in his chest as he stood under the spray.  
  
Everything was ruined. Everything. Foggy would hate him forever and it was all his own fault, because he couldn’t just keep it in his pants, because Matt was an _idiot_ and now Foggy would leave.  
  
Matt stumbled back into the bedroom, grabbing the first clean things he could get his hands on (Foggy’s sweatshirt and a pair of Matt’s workout pants), tugging them on as fast as he could before grabbing his wallet and keys.  
  
He felt like he was running away.  
  
(He was.)  
  
Matt grabbed his cane and practically ran out of the apartment, not paying attention to the uptick of Foggy’s heartbeat as the front door slammed closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to let you all know, my original plan was to end it here on New Year's Eve.
> 
> :D


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ow!”
> 
> “You had that coming, you utter putz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, lovelies. The Final Chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Also, thank you all for the well wishes about my health - I'm feeling a lot better on the pneumonia front! :D (but I still ended up having to go back to the ER earlier this month *heavy sigh*)
> 
> Shout out to fulldaysdrive for beta reading this final chapter!

Matt found himself outside of his church, leg bouncing as his nerves jangled under his skin.  
  
“Matthew?” Father Lantom spoke, his voice confused. “A bit early for you, isn't it?”  
  
“I need to talk to you. I need,” Matt stammered, stumbling over his words.  
  
God, how could he ever _explain_?  
  
“Come in, come in. We’ll sit in my office and have some coffee. Though you look like you’d be better off with some decaf.”  
  
“I don't care about the fucking _coffee_ ,” Matt yelled.  
  
Father Lantom reached out and wrapped a gentle hand around Matt’s wrist. “Matthew. Take a breath, you’re hyperventilating.”  
  
Matt gasped. Oh, hey, Father Lantom was right. Matt dragged in a few more breaths as Father Lantom rubbed his thumb comfortingly over the back of Matt’s wrist. “Forgive me.”  
  
“Come inside, we’ll talk in my office.”  
  
Matt nodded, following Father Lantom numbly into the church, into his office, and letting the old priest maneuver him into a chair. “Father Lantom, I think I ruined everything with Foggy last night.”  
  
“I’m listening.”  
  
“I. He and I, we… we had, um. Relations. Last night.”  
  
“Relations?”  
  
“Carnal relations.”  
  
Father Lantom sighed. “So you had sex with your husband last night.”  
  
“Yes!” Matt snapped. Why didn't he _understand_ how terrible this was?! “Father, I’ve ruined everything!”  
  
“Did you force him?”  
  
Matt could feel the blood draining from his face. “No!”  
  
“Did he force you?”  
  
“ _What?! No! Absolutely not!_ ” This was _Foggy_! Foggy would _never_!  
  
Father Lantom took a deep breath. “Let me see if I understand what you're telling me, Matthew. You had sex with your husband, consented to on both sides. And now you're freaking out?”  
  
“He doesn't feel that way about me!”  
  
There was a long pause, full of judgement. “Your husband.”  
  
“Foggy, yes.”  
  
“The man you married.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“The man you adopted a child with.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“The man who had sex with you last night.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“You're telling me he doesn't love you?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Father Lantom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Matthew, that makes no sense.”  
  
“It makes perfect sense!”  
  
“Matthew, he _married you and adopted a child with you_. Of course he loves you.”  
  
“But-!!”  
  
Father Lantom reached out and gripped Matt’s hands. “Matthew. Go home to your husband and tell him how you feel.”  
  
“I don't know if he’ll listen to me.”  
  
“And why not?”  
  
“...I left the apartment this morning before he woke up.” Father Lantom reached up and smacked Matt upside the head. “ _Ow!_ ”  
  
“You had that coming, you utter _putz_ ,” Father Lantom snapped. “Now, this is what you are going to do. You are going to go to the shop down the block, and you are going to get coffee and bagels. And then you are going to bring them home, and you are going to tell Franklin how you feel about him.”  
  
That was a _terrible_ idea. “But he doesn't-!”  
  
“If I’m wrong and he doesn't love you, may God strike me dead where I stand!” Father Lantom yelled, surging to his feet.  
  
Matt blinked uselessly at him. “Father?”  
  
“Why are you still here?! Go get your man!”  
  
Matt scrambled to his feet. “I - thank you, Father! Thank you so much-!”  
  
“Go, before they run out of the good bagels!”  
  
Matt practically ran out of the church.  
  
\---  
  
Foggy was awake when Matt came home. Matt could hear him shuffling around the apartment.  
  
He had showered, and was sniffling.  
  
 _Shit_.  
  
Matt squared his shoulders as he opened the front door. “I’m home!”  
  
“Matt? I… welcome back. I didn't know where you went.”  
  
Matt set aside his cane. “I went out to get us breakfast. Sorry, I forgot my phone.”  
  
Foggy took the coffee tray and bag from him and set them on the table. “...This is from the place near the church.”  
  
Matt flinched. “...I needed to talk to Father Lantom, too.”  
  
“Because we had sex.” At Matt’s silence, Foggy sighed. “Matt, it’s fine, it was just a one time thing - heat of the moment and all that. I know you don't think of me like that. You’re still straight.”  
  
Wait, what?  
  
 _What?  
  
_ “Foggy, I’m not- I _very much_ think of you 'like that’.” How could he _not?_ “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Foggy. It’s _you_ who doesn't feel that way about _me_.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Foggy was staring at him. “How long, exactly, have you been in love with me?”  
  
Oh boy. “Sophomore year of undergrad, more or less?”  
  
“And you think I don't feel that way about you?”  
  
“I know you _used_ to be attracted to me, but you stopped in Freshman year, so…” Matt shrugged a shoulder, wincing.  
  
Foggy sat down at the table slowly. “I thought you knew. This whole time I thought you knew how I felt and were just sparing my feelings by not saying anything about it.”  
  
 _What._ “What.”  
  
"You _jackass!_ ” Foggy slammed his fist down on the table. “You've been in love with me this _whole time_?!"  
  
Now Matt was confused. "...yes?"  
  
"But you thought I didn't feel that way about you?!"  
  
"Your heart stopped doing the thing around me!" Matt flailed a little, careful to avoid where the coffee still sat on the table.  
  
" _Matthew,_ we were _roommates!_ If my heart went nuts every time I saw you I would've been _dead by Christmas Freshman year!_ "  
  
"It made perfect sense in my head!" It _had_ made sense before. Foggy was confusing things, somehow.  
  
"Your head doesn't make sense," Foggy snapped.  
  
"Oh yeah, well what about you?!” Matt sputtered, pointing at Foggy. “You thought I knew about your feelings and was just trying to spare you and _you married me anyway!_ "  
  
Foggy seemed to draw back at that. "Well, yeah, because of Peter-"  
  
" _Foggy that's insane and a level of self-flagellation I had no idea someone who is as Not Catholic as you could achieve!_ "  
  
“Okay, that’s unfair-”  
  
“It is _not!_ ” Matt surged forward, grabbing Foggy’s hands. “Why would you _do that_ , Foggy? Why would you make yourself _suffer_ like that? I’m not worth it!”  
  
“I wouldn’t _be here_ if that were true,” Foggy said, his voice soft as he laced their fingers together. “I wouldn’t have followed you from L &Z and I wouldn’t have come back after I found out about your abilities if it were true. You _are_ worth it, Matty. Always have been.”  
  
Matt couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and kissed Foggy. “I love you. More than anything, Foggy, you have to believe that.”  
  
Foggy let out a weak laugh, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I love you too, you know.”  
  
Matt’s heart was singing, joy practically bursting out of his chest as he kissed Foggy again. “Hey, Foggy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Will you marry me?”  
  
Foggy snorted, burying his face in Matt’s neck as he laughed. “Oh _God_ , not you too!”  
  
“It seems like it’s tradition now,” Matt laughed, kissing away Foggy’s tears. “I mean, it works for your dad, right?”  
  
“You are going to be as much of a sap as my father?”  
  
“Every day, as long as you’ll have me.”  
  
“I think the traditional vows are 'until death do us part,’ Matty.”  
  
Matt kissed him again, letting go of Foggy's hands to cradle his face between his palms. “We should have another wedding,” Matt murmured into Foggy's mouth. “Renew our vows. Let your mom plan it, she’ll be thrilled.”  
  
Foggy laughed. “Why?”  
  
“Because it's different now. We got married to each other without full knowledge of our feelings. It was just… convenience, before. Now it's not. Now we know that we're in love and it's something different. And Peter’s doing better with his talking, so he might not be so utterly miserable.”  
  
Foggy nuzzled Matt’s jaw. “Okay. You convinced me. Besides, this way mom can have that big party with all the bragging rights she wanted. We can't really afford it, but we'll figure something out.”  
  
“We always do,” Matt murmured, kissing Foggy again. “I can't believe you thought I didn't love you. How can I not? You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”  
  
“Have you seen yourself? Don't answer that.”  
  
Matt growled. “Hey. You don't get to disparage my husband. I will fight you.”  
  
“Oh, you’ll fight me, huh?” Foggy asked with a laugh. “Really?”  
  
“Yup. I have the best husband, hands down.”  
  
Foggy wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders, lacing his fingers together behind Matt's head. “Is he? I dunno, buddy, my husband is pretty great.”  
  
“ _Your_ husband is a _moron_.”  
  
“My husband has communication issues. See, he’s got these super senses that he sometimes relies too heavily on? So he makes these assumptions based on those instead of, you know, talking to people. It's okay, though, our toddler has a similar problem. It's something we can work on as a family.”  
  
Matt kissed Foggy again before burying his face in Foggy's neck. “... hey Foggy?”  
  
“Yeah, babe?”  
  
Matt flushed, happy at the pet name. “We did this backwards, huh?”  
  
“What, you mean having a baby, getting married, and then confessing our love for each other isn't the way other people do it?”  
  
“I think they do it the other way around, yeah.”  
  
“Yeah, well, we were never like other people.” Foggy kissed him. “I realize that this is a super emotional moment, and we should probably go back to bed and take advantage of having the apartment to ourselves, but you brought me really good bagels and coffee and I’m ravenous.”  
  
Matt burst into laughter, collapsing into Foggy's lap as they held each other. “Well. You do need to replenish your energy. And they _are_ really good bagels, and excellent coffee. It would be a crime to let them get cold.”  
  
“And I know how you feel about crime,” Foggy murmured, kissing Matt again as Matt moved to sit in his own chair.  
  
And so they sat, Foggy's foot hooked around Matt’s ankle as they ate their bagels and drank their coffee, and Matt had never been happier.  
  
\---  
  
They _did_ spend the rest of the morning lying in bed together, kissing and touching and making love like they had all the time in the world to explore one another. And then they showered together, and Matt hummed happily as Foggy washed his hair, revelling in the touch even though there was nothing sexual about it.  
  
“Hey Foggy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Do you love me?” Matt sang, voice scratchy and a little off key.  
  
Foggy gaped at him before laughing, delighted. “Aww Matt, Tevye you are not.”  
  
“I like his and Golde's relationship, though, it’s sweet.” Matt had gotten Foggy the original cast recording of Fiddler On the Roof for Christmas, and Foggy hadn't stopped listening to it since.  
  
“It is. I can see why you’d like him. And I’d say a relationship like his and Golde's wouldn't be so bad.”  
  
“Then you love me?” Matt sang again, and delighted in Foggy's laugh.  
  
“I suppose I do,” Foggy sang back, wrapping his arms around Matt.  
  
“And I suppose I love you, too.” Matt kissed Foggy under the spray.  
  
Perfect.  
  
\---  
  
Bucky tilted his head when he came back to the apartment, looking between Matt and Foggy. “Something is different about you two.”  
  
“We took the time to work on our communication,” Foggy said, lacing his fingers with Matt’s as they sat together on the couch.  
  
“... Right. _Communication_. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Bucky shook his head and moved to sit in the armchair. “Steve, Tony, Sam, and I came up with a plan - I wanted to run it by you.”  
  
“Oh? You’re getting along with them okay?”  
  
Oddly, Bucky's face heated up. “You could say that,” Bucky muttered. “Anyway, right now the plan is that Tony is gonna do some construction on the Tower - Sam and I are getting our own floor, and Sam says he doesn't mind sharing a floor with me, so that is gonna take about a month.”  
  
“So you're moving out in a month?” Matt asked. It did give them enough time to get Peter used to the idea, at least.  
  
“Yeah. And. Um, there was a team meeting, and they want me on the Avengers - Tony says it’ll be good if I end up going to court to show that they trust me.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “But?”  
  
“I… Peter starts kindergarten in September, and I thought I’d wait to go on missions until that happens, so I can still babysit him while you guys are working.”  
  
“Bucky-”  
  
“You need someone to look after him during the day, and I like doing it.”  
  
Matt tilted his head. “And you’re worried about going on missions again,” he supplied.  
  
Bucky hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, a little.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “Well, I’m not gonna say 'no’ if this is what you need, but I do want to have some ground rules in place, and Matt, I think you’ll agree with me about these?” At Matt’s nod, Foggy held up his hand to count off the rules. “In no particular order of importance, rule one: absolutely no weapons unsecured around my son. Guns are holstered with the safeties on, if not locked away completely. Knives are sheathed. Bows are locked up. Repulsors are shut down. If he is in Avengers Tower with you, _no one is allowed to have their weapons out around my kid_.”  
  
“With the understanding that if they _are_ out, it's because you're protecting him from danger,” Matt put in, and Foggy nodded.  
  
“Right. What he said.” Foggy took a deep breath. “Rule two: you have to stay with him. We don't know the other Avengers. _Peter_ doesn't know them. Do not leave him alone with them for more than a few minutes if you don't have to. This could possibly change at a later date, but we'll deal when we get there.”  
  
“You don't trust Captain America with your kid?” Bucky asked, curious.  
  
“It's not a matter of trust, it’s a matter of his level of child care experience. I don't care how great he is at leading battles, I care about if he knows what to do when Peter's having a meltdown in the middle of the street.”  
  
Bucky nodded. “But do you trust my judgement if I need to leave him with someone else while he's in my care?”  
  
 _If I have a panic attack_ , Matt heard go unsaid.  
  
“Yes, we trust you,” Matt said, voice soft.  
  
Foggy squeezed Matt’s hand. “Right. Rule three: if there is a call to action while you are with the team, Peter has to come home before you head out. If he cannot come home for whatever reason, _you_ have to be the one to stay with him. I understand that you are skittish about going on missions and that is why you're looking after Peter, but can you promise me that if Steve is going off into danger you’re not going to follow?”  
  
Bucky went tense. “... Good point. Peter's safety will be my first priority.”  
  
Foggy nodded. “Thank you. Rule four: the Tower AI does not count as a babysitter, I don't _care_ how advanced he is.”  
  
Bucky snorted. “Yeah, understood.”  
  
“Rule five: _our_ idea of child appropriate activities, please, for the love of God. If not _our_ idea, than at least _my_ idea,” Foggy said, and Bucky snorted.  
  
“Yeah, that's fair.”  
  
“Rule six,” Matt said, softly. “He has to stay in the Tower with you. If you take him out of the Tower for any reason, even if it is to bring him home, you call or text us.”  
  
Bucky nodded slowly. “... Something tells me there's a story there.”  
  
“I don't really feel like telling it today, Bucky.”  
  
“Does it have to do with Daredevil?”  
  
Matt sighed. “Sort of. I think it goes without saying that the Avengers are _not_ to know about Daredevil and all that?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean - heads up, Steve is making noises about getting Daredevil to join the Avengers, but I’ll keep my mouth shut.”  
  
Matt sighed and nodded, slumping back into the couch. “That's going to be annoying.”  
  
Foggy stroked Matt’s hair fondly. “We’ll figure something out later. In the meantime, I think that covers everything we’re worried about with Peter.”  
  
“Oh!” Matt bolted upright. “If a blind man who calls himself Stick shows up and says he knows me and that I said it was okay for him to take Peter he is _lying_ and is a _threat_. Even if he doesn't show up for Peter, Stick is bad news!”  
  
“... Fucking _Stick_?” Bucky asked, baffled. “Seriously, that's his name?”  
  
“I _know_ , right?” Foggy said, pressing his hand into Matt’s chest to press him back into the couch. “He is the one who taught Matt to control his senses, but he is also a giant, abusive dick and we hate him a lot.”  
  
“I don't-”  
  
Foggy clapped a hand over Matt’s mouth. “ _He is a giant, abusive dick. And we hate him. A lot_.”  
  
Bucky nodded. “Understood, neutralize Stick on sight.”  
  
Matt sighed heavily. “I guess that's it, then.”  
  
“At least as far as Peter is concerned,” Foggy murmured. “Bucky, are you okay?”  
  
Bucky shifted. “I don't know.”  
  
Matt reached forward and wrapped a hand around Bucky's wrist. “It's okay that you don't know, Buck. There's a lot going on right now.”  
  
“I just. Thought I’d never have this again. HYDRA’s last hurrah, you know? Too fucked up to have a life after all this. But now there's you two, and Peter, and now my head’s clear of code words and I can go stay with Steve and it's just… there's this utterly irrational part of me that wants all my people in one place where I can keep an eye on your dumbass selves.”  
  
“I resent that, I don't do _nearly_ as much dumbassery as Matt does.” Matt coughed “bullshit” into his hand and Foggy turned to look at him. “Really? You're gonna argue that? _Really_?”  
  
“Foggy, if it weren't for the Daredevil thing, _you’d_ be the reckless one.”  
  
Foggy gaped at him. “The Daredevil thing is a really big thing, Matt!”  
  
“And which one of us, after getting caught in an explosion, went through an entire building looking for people who might need help? To the point where you didn't notice you had been _stabbed by debris_ until you got Mrs. Cardenas to the hospital?”  
  
Foggy sputtered. “What? No! No no no, you got blown up _literally last night_ , you don't get to-!”  
  
“And I’m fine, aren't I?”  
  
“ _Oh my God why are you like this?!_ ”  
  
Bucky rubbed at his temples. “Who decided that you two morons were fit to raise children, oh my _God_.”  
  
“ _Bite me_ ,” Matt snapped back, just as Foggy shot off “Eat my shorts, Barnes.”  
  
Bucky shook his head. “Wow.”  
  
Matt sighed. “Can we just… Agree that we are equal amounts of dumbass in different ways?”  
  
“...I’ll accept that,” Foggy sniffed. “We are equal. Some of us are just more equal than others.”  
  
“ _Foggy._ ”  
  
There was a knock at the door, and Foggy got to his feet to answer it, and Matt leaned in to Bucky’s space. “You will always have us, Bucky. I mean it.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You’d better. And. Uh. Heads up, Foggy and I are planning on renewing our vows, having a 'real’ wedding sometime this year. You will be invited.”  
  
“...That must’ve been one hell of a conversation.”  
  
“Honestly, you are going to laugh your ass off at us.”  
  
“Most likely, yeah.” Bucky ruffled Matt's hair with his flesh hand. “Tell me after Peter's in bed,” he said, just as Peter cheered and flung himself into Foggy's arms from Anna's.  
  
\--  
  
Later that night, when Peter was in bed and Foggy, Bucky, and Matt sat at the breakfast bar nursing their beers, Matt told Bucky about what happened.  
  
“....Wait. you didn't _know_?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“How could you not _know_? I just - Foggy, Matt practically glows when you're near him! Matt, Foggy is constantly smiling at you!”  
  
“Matt can't see that,” Foggy said, squeezing Matt's knee. “Also confirmation bias is a thing.”  
  
“But you figured it all out now?”  
  
“Yup! Hence renewing our vows and stuff.”  
  
“I’m bringing Steve. No, I am gonna bring all the Avengers, and I am gonna make a super embarrassing speech at the reception about my dumbass brother and his dumbass husband and how much I love both of you you _utter morons_.”  
  
“Wait, which one of us if your brother?” Foggy asked around his beer.  
  
“Matt, obviously,” Bucky ruffled Matt's hair. “I mean… is that okay?”  
  
Matt took a long pull of his beer. “...I have only one question.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Matt pointed at him. “Are you my big brother, or my little brother?”  
  
“Big brother, obviously.”  
  
Matt turned the idea over in his mind. Bucky as his adopted older brother. He didn’t hate the idea. “Bucky Barnes-Murdock.”  
  
“Deal. I’ll ask Tony for help with the name papers and shit.”  
  
They clinked their bottles together.  
  
Family was a funny thing, sometimes, Matt thought. It happened when you least expected it to, and it was messy and frustrating and sometimes it hurt more than anything.  
  
But it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride this fic has been, and I am so glad you all have stuck with me to the end! I've read all your comments and I treasure them! 
> 
> I want to thank torrential and fulldaysdrive for being the best beta readers/copy editors ever and for being so patient with me and working with me on this story. They are wonderful, wonderful people. Also shout out to nightwalker for being an awesome cheerleader when I needed it most!
> 
> Heads up, everyone - this is not the end of the Dadvocados-verse! There are TWO MORE FICS in this series, and I hope you'll all join me for those as well!
> 
> See you in the next one, my darlings!


End file.
